


No Rest for the Hopeless: Part 1

by NoLoser_Creator



Series: No Loser Chronicles [8]
Category: No Loser Chronicles, Supernatural
Genre: Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Evil Dean Winchester, Evil Sam Winchester, Evil Twins, Fan Characters, Gen, Hospitalization, Mind Walk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoLoser_Creator/pseuds/NoLoser_Creator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The No Losers are in denial as the hope for mankind is threatened. A new threat appears that could be the end of the team for good as they search for the best way to destroy them. Cas claims that of a sword that could help the Winchesters defeat the threat as they're off to search for it. With the help of Death, Jason and the Professor, the team discovers the sword was stolen. With their last hope no where to be seen, they assume that it was stolen by their evil duplicates and it is Dean who takes his chances against his double to find the sword. His near-death experience leaves the team's search at a stand still as the new evil heads off to resurrect a witch of black power after kidnapping Katie. But knowing the Winchesters, they're not going to give up on their now lost leader. It's a matter of life and death as they race the clock to find their missing leader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Rest for the Hopeless: Part 1

The night has dawned. I have woken up in a sudden shock as I hollered to the world, my body dripping in a cold sweat. Dean's body would twist to its side, flipping on the solemn table lamp. HIs face would become laminated from the dark, as his eyes would nail to me.  
"Katie, what's wrong?" He'd asked concerned.  
I couldn't bare but shake my head towards his wonder. His muscular form would slide closer until I could feel his warm arms close around my own. I found myself deep within his chest, as his heart would thump hard between his ribs. Dean was always a slight skeptic; he never really could find answers like his sibling would in minutes. However, his concerned was just the beginning of my problems.  
Suddenly, our door would burst open as the tall form of our brother; Sam was seen at the doorway, eyeing us with confusion and despair. "What is...?” He stopped in his tracks as he noticed Dean huddling over me as I sobbed in his grips. I could feel Sam's mind nailed to us, trying to find a conclusion that seemed so far away. Our brother had moved a few inches closer, just to find a place to seat himself at the edge of our decorated bedspread.  
Dean had eyed him from the door, showing concern and fear in his pupils, as they would swell in size. I remained where I was, sobbing heavily with the burden upon me and asking why? Dean knew what my issue was and personally it freaks him out. Recently, I've been having nightmares, harsh ones that would craze me for days, taunting and flustering my open mind. It wasn't until a few seconds later would I find my spouse's concern facing me.  
"Was it one of your nightmares?" He asked solemnly. I knew that Dean wouldn't want to hear the dreaded 'yes' but I couldn't just leave him hanging neither. I glanced over at Sam, his expression told of the same thing but was less brutal than Dean's, more liked a "lifted state of mind".  
I turned my attention back briefly towards my husband and gave a nod. The dreaded 'yes' was told and Dean for one knew it was times to get some help. However, no one was willing to deal with my problem. Someone of a medical background would just say, "Post dramatic stress" or "she's fine", ignoring the fact of how intense they've progressed to be and Dean knew it. Sam, who would have visions of times of death was the only person I could possibly turn towards for help but that was many years ago. He was only about 22 by that time and attended to forget about the tragedy that followed them all those earlier years of hunting.  
Dean had looked on, meeting his brother's green eyes just to be pushed away by troubling thoughts. I still lay back upon his chest, counting the slowed beats and trying to tell myself to take a breather. His arms cradled me gently like a mother's would. As much as I knew this crap scared him, he always tried his best to keep himself calm. The problem was heavy, we knew that but who would be willing to help us? I mean, come on, asking Doc wouldn't help to solve anything.  
Deep down I knew no one could help me, no one at all.

After events like this early morning's, Dean and I couldn't really get enough sleep. After kicking Sam out, the room had lifted into silence. Dean had inched himself over until his whole self could be felt upon my back as we slept comfortable close. About at seven am, I felt a bit uneasy and nauseous so I found myself over the toilet heaving. Dean resented getting up so early but would arrive half asleep at the doorway.  
Glancing up to meet him, his motionless expression was dead of contrast. A yawn would rise as he rubbed the sleep from his eye. His hair was a spike less mess with random stand-ups and matted. I would quickly turn my attention back around to the filled toilet as pressure would build inside. That is when I noticed the burning sensation inside my gut, cramps.  
As much as I hated this time, I would always wish of rather than burning, it would be the movement of a little beat. One these days, I told myself. Dean had sat himself down, leaning up against our not so deserving tub. His exhaustion caused an obscured sense around the bathroom, like an unneeded habit. But I just couldn't get around the fact that he was just trying to stick around and be of assistance if and when I ever needed it.  
I glanced over at his glassing eyes and make certain he wasn’t asking for trouble. He had remained nailed to the bathroom floor until about ten minutes. His hands would tremble as they pushed his body up from the cold, tiled floor. Dean had turned to me and said he'd return later as he exited the room, shutting the door silently behind him. I steadied myself to a solid stature before plopping down upon our cotton-soft bedspread for a well-needed nap.

My eyes would flutter open as I made note of our alarm clock reading 2:30 in analog sticks. With a sigh, I rose from the bedspread, yawning quickly. As I got to my feet, the dissipating throb of my gut lingered effortlessly as I would shake it off as an inconvenience. I would soon be upon our grand staircase, listening to the slight mumbles of Big Mama and Sarah talking. It was Big Mama who would take notice of me.  
"Well hello, Miss Katie." She greeted. "How's the stomach?"  
The bar stool that sat behind our counter looked comfy enough so I hesitated before sitting myself down gently. I placed my forehead into my hands, rubbing away the thoughts that troubled me and shook my head. "Not very nice." I replied with a bothered expression.  
Big Mama lifted a brow. "I can understand that," She said friendly. "Here, try one of these. They'll suppress the urge." Her hand would push the ibuprofen over, setting a suggestion.  
I would stare at the bottle, contemplating in taking one but how could I? Grams would always tell me that no soul would be strong without pain. So I decided against it, turning away in disbelief. Big Mama seemed a bit surprised by my behavior towards the help but nudged it off, as she knew it wasn't her problem. Sarah would make note of my ever so changing expressions and wonder if such a thing happens to good people like me.  
Big Mama would stare out the window for a moment. She seemed to be in her own world, as thoughts would rack up. I glanced over at Sarah whose grand green eyes would bore into my own intentions. Shaking it off, I sighed and rose to my feet. Our nanny motioned towards the stove for a brief second.  
“I think I’ll take a shower. Better to be clean while feeling gross.” I said. Big Mama nodded as I ascended back up towards my bedroom. It was a good fifteen minutes before I appeared once again the midst of the living room.  
Oddly enough, my energy levels were still high. It was a usual idea when you save the world and kick ass for a living. However, feeling crappy was never on the agenda. But what’s there to possibly do? Could write I guess or read something but I doubt I haven’t heard of it.  
But the one thing I’ve wanted to do for the longest time was to play the piano. Our piano was an older Baldwin of black wood. Its original owner was my very own grand grandfather who lived just five blocks down our very street in the monstrous manor. However, being known to be “gobbled” by your own house freaks out even the most crucial onlookers. My gang and I were there that exact day, not much to tell except an unseen something drags him away into the depths of an empty storage closet. As of today, no one knows where or how my grandfather would just vanish from the world, some investigators say it was a ghost; others like Ronald would speak of things such as the “Boogeyman” or “Mandroids”.  
Just a mysterious happening, I suppose. Anyways, as I felt the ivory keys under my fingers, a strong sense of relief washed over me as it guided every pressure point upon the keys. The very owner of its form taught me. He’d take hours at a time just to teach the technique while Yessie watched from the sidelines, memorizing each note and key she could. Life was good back then, not much happened and everyone was content.  
Today, it is a different story. Emotions and the mood fly out the window at random times, sometimes built to a rage. You never really know what to expect of such a harsh lifestyle. But in a way, it was always a good thing, being mentally distracted could harm those surrounding you. Baring such a thing could never help the situation neither.  
As my fingers modeling along the keys distracted me, the front door would open to reveal the two Winchester boys. I paused, taking a listen to their conversation with Big Mama.  
“So?” Big Mama asked.  
“No one was willing to take the case.” Dean replied. His eyes wandered for a moment as if searching for something. “Where’s she at anyways?”  
Big Mama pointed toward the living room. Dean would gesture to her as a thank you and find me with my head twisted and seated nicely on the piano’s stool. He was hesitating briefly before leaning comfortable upon the loveseat’s armrest, his eyes glued to my own.  
“No luck?” I asked as I briefly looked up towards him.  
He shook his head like if he was ashamed. “No…” He’d mumble.  
I sighed and looked down at my feet contemplating in what to expect. Dean would soon be about atop of me, sitting next to me on what space remained of the stool. “You know,” he began as I let my headrest on his shoulder. “I’ll do all that’s in my power to help you.” His eyes would trail up then back around to me.  
“I know,” I whispered. I couldn’t help but think of the optional possibilities we still had. That is when it struck me like a wild wind. “What if we need someone with more experience? Someone who’s been around the longest… like years, maybe even centuries…”  
He kind of sent me a sideways look, wondering if my mind was wandering. “Centuries huh? I doubt anyone we know had lived that…oh, I get you.”  
“We think the same.” I commented.  
“Yeah but I doubt he’d be willing to talk to us. I mean, last time Sam and I encountered him, he wasn’t very Mr. Rogers about it.”  
I narrowed my eyes as if in deep thought. “Well… you did bind him…”  
Dean grinned for a minute before it disappeared. “About that…”  
“Don’t tell me, tell him.” I said as I stood up and began to head up the stairwell. “Now, why don’t you go fetch Sammy and we’ll head off?”  
“You sure? Right now?” Dean asked standing at the end of the stairs.  
I nodded. “Well… I am not getting any better…” I enthused. Dean shrugged before motioning towards the kitchen where he’d left Sam.

The drive was a long one. As you headed up the winding road of the canyon, you couldn’t help but get a little seasick. Dean was where he always was in the driver seat, his attention switching between the road and myself. Sam had offered his usual seat in shotgun to me for the sake of directions while he was busily glancing towards the numerous names and clippings of their current case dealing with a possible witch-hunt.  
The Impala was a nice, smooth ride for a reincarnated classic muscle with a sleek aerodynamic body and chrome lined its outermost shine followed by its raven black paint job that was spotless and shined in the sun by its wax. It was the only 67 Impala in all of Nevada City and even the state last we checked. Many things have happened within its four doors and the boys’ wouldn’t hesitate to tell them to you. It survived the nasty floods and epidemics, it helped end the apocalypse… may not look it but this car has seen it all. Of course, there are stories only the car itself would know but if you want, you’ve got to find a prophet named Chuck for that.  
As the asphalt’s S narrowed out, the canyon would rise to an open prairie of grass and weed. Talk about fire hazard. However, it was a good sign that we were approaching our destination and Dean knew it. The curves would fade into the distance, as the path became less of a hassle, turning into complete open space with nothing more than the towering pines and quacking aspens in the distance. It was just a hassle getting up to this place but we all hopped it wouldn’t be a mishap.  
We had finally reached our destination. As you looked around, you’d get a nasty knot in your gut, pleading for you to turn back as the rocky ledge echoed with the voices of those who’ve committed the tragedy of life. The masses of rocks were lined sparsely with charred trees, ravens would be seen sliding along there weakening branches and cawing at unknown signs. Seeing the bird known for the sign of death would make the stomach ream, as the knot seemed to tighten uneasily. Feeling unsafe was one of the things we knew like home; it always would loop back around like another dimension.  
The rock formation ahead of us was where he lurked. As Sam and Dean took the lead, I’d follow with resent making it seem harder to breathe and the heart to relax. The pathway was lead into the depths by the thousands of stoned steps, every single one made those who dared to follow it ever so more on edge. I was counting each and every one as we’d continued forward, ignoring the eerie urge of looking back. I narrowed onto Dean’s backside, his darker ovals meeting my own as his palm offered a sense of relaxation.  
Right before I had the chance to think of my actions, Sam had suddenly stopped at the foot of the stone staircase. Dean and I met his sights, as he’d look back over his broad shoulders briefly.  
“Is something up, Sammy?” Dean asked.  
Our brother hesitated, eyes pinned in the midst of the darkened pathway. He would shake it off as he twisted on his heels to meet his brother face to face. “No,” He replied. “Just thought something caught my eye.”  
That is when you heard it, a ravaged scrapping sound as metal dialog mellowed in and out of frequency. It wasn’t just our imagination; the echo was increasing as if pacing towards us from the depths of the darkness that lay before us. As quick as a wink, Sam and Dean had angled themselves closing around my own form, guns at the ready for a high aimed pursuit. Quickly, it would gain on us as the boys noted the obscure noises growing around them. I couldn’t help but watch and wait for the culprit to come into view.  
To our surprise, the form made shape as if being humanoid. Once the face was fully lightened by a steady flashlight, it revealed a gentle famine expression with deep black hair and a paled skin tone. The boys relieved themselves as their guns lowered to their sides.  
“Tessa?” Dean asked obscurely.  
“Dean,” She echoed with resent. “Why are you three here? You know Death doesn’t like company.”  
Dean nodded. “Yes, we’re aware but it is… kind of an emergency.”  
Tessa gazed restlessly towards my spouse, narrowing her eyes to the word. She shook her head revealing her discourage. “What have you idiots done now? Did someone die or lose their soul because I’m pretty certain Death has had enough of you two’s insecurity!” She cried with disbelief.  
Sam wanted to barge in but he seemed lost in his exact words until he would shake his head. “We can understand that but this truly is an emergency. And we need his help with it.”  
“Why the hell should I let you? What is this emergency exactly about?” Tessa questioned with anger in her tone.  
That is when Sam and Dean’s sights were set upon me. The tension in Tessa’s expression marked me with intensity no one person could understand. I let out a brief sigh before saying a word to such a stricken face. “That would be my queue,” I began, meeting briefly within my means. “I need to speak with him, these nightmares I’ve been having… there insanely intense and I don’t know if I should ignore them or not. They could be like a warning or something so I need his advice.”  
Tessa’s gaze would dissipate with a turn on the heels and a wide range of strut. “I now see what you came here for and I respect you for that. “Come, I shall take you to him.” She said over her shoulder as we begun away in a herd of foursome.  
The corridor would widen as the air became thick and harsh. The eyes would leak from the strain of dramatic change. The corridor would shrink behind us as the room morphed into a large dome of scratched glass and numerous abandoned buildings scattered about. It was the lost village of the Cherikon, a band of dark warlocks and witches that lived forbidden from the modern world just above them. Glancing in through the small glassless windows, the little houses were filled by old ripped up blankets and furniture made from long pig.  
By the sight of long pig, you can sense the essence of the cannibalism that made these people feared by society’s nature. Who couldn’t? The people were madly into black magic and would devour those stupidly enough to enter their turf. But if the people above meant anything, it was the buffet. Lucky for us though, the society went extinct many years ago, all that remains is this shambles of a village.  
Walking forward, the certain spot of the abandoned place was noted like a less than seen bowled stadium and one empty town square with the remains of a charred bonfire dead center. The thickened air would turn into a must of stale air as our current direction led to the tall emboss of the church’s bell tower. The stale rocks that lined its walls seemed to climb up to the ceiling, reaching up as high as it could, each lined sedimentary with the next. The pews were lined up neatly but covered in layers of dust, as it would float around gently. You couldn’t help but sneeze.  
Tessa would come to a halt, looking down the stairwell to the basement area before she turned on her heels. “Here we are. You’ll find him in the bridge.”  
“Thanks, Tessa.” Dean obliged.  
She nodded briefly. “Welcome. Now if you would excuse me, I’ve got some reaping to do.” Then she was gone, just like the breeze outside.  
Dean and Sam gave a glance towards each other. That always meant they were suspicious of the occurring events. However, I didn’t have time to stop and ask. I searched ahead of us, finding the room lighted with the dimness of thick candles laid about. A good bunch of four was layout neatly upon the pedestal where the priest would usually pray to the crowd of hundreds. A massive masonry door stood between us and the occupied room to the grim reaper.  
Just out of curiosity, I would push an inch open to take a peek inside. The room was dim lighted as well with numerous shelves full of trinkets and flasks labeled by names. I saw a dark mass hovering over another pedestal made of stone; his chanting and clacking rattled the ears as grotesque fingers flipped pages of Latin back and forth. Suddenly the mass would stop and the head would rise for the peep of a sound.  
“It is rude to hover in doorways, Katie.” He commenced.  
Hearing my name said, I knew there was no reason to hide any long as I entered cautiously, approaching his side. The Winchester brothers were right behind me, making haste to stay by. Death’s grotesque fingers slid under the book and slammed it shut. The roughness by how it closed set off a warning side that neither the reaper was happy or pleased by the sight of us. His hand would drop; facing us head on now was a creaky looking elder face with a sneer of displeasure.  
The boys have come across the face of Death numerous times, some they wouldn’t remember. But a face like that wasn’t hard to memorize. His boney silhouette structured his face like a skeleton that has been sleeping for years – generations at that. Most would picture him a full body of bones and rotten tissue, carrying a scythe and hooded in a dark cloak. But his true form was far worse than most would imagine, thousands of eyes pinching at your very soul with wide wings and massive capacity. I would know because I have seen him in this form, he is no longer considered a ‘he’ then.  
However, we weren’t here to sell our souls. As Death’s darkened grey of eyes nailed to me, I felt I couldn’t breathe. His source for all that is life can push him to torture just by a look. You couldn’t bare but be threatened to your feet in a bow that he would take as a sign of gratitude. I barely could bow this time; feeling like my lungs were on fire wouldn’t encourage me.  
“What is it you want, Katie.” He allowed us up with a flick of his palm.  
I grasped my opportunity with full intentions as I spoke. “I need to ask for your assistance.”  
“For what?” He groaned.  
“It isn’t for the boys, it is for me.” I paused for a moment as Dean and Sam met me in the middle. Sam was kind of tense with his shoulders telling of complete concern while Dean seemed to get the same sensation but with biting his lip.  
“Continue.” Death roared with content.  
I shook my thoughts off for a moment to continue the thoughts in my mouth. “I seem to have been… having these strange, dramatic dreams. Is this normal?”  
Death’s big grey’s briefed the area before he replied. “How are these… dreams?”  
“Intense.” I replied while clasping my hands together.  
The reaper narrowed his sights, searching his knowledge for a source of dependency. When the answer occurred to him, he motioned us to the next room. Following him down a dimmed hallway didn’t give the best feeling off your back as you just wanted to duck and hide from humanity, from the world if you could. Soon, another massive masonry door appeared before us as they revealed the room I have seen many times. It was a medium sized room of darkness that lined the outside.  
In the middle of this room was what appeared to be a levitating sliver dish? Walking up to the dish made you feel uncomfortable as if life itself had stopped miraculously. Dread was rising in me as Death nudged the dish slightly off into a close corner revealing a table that was about the size of a human being. It remained me badly of an old coroner’s table with a flat surface and slightly angled edge where the head would rest. But this one in particular was a bit out of the ordinary, instead of complete metal and a sink; it would have the levitating dish and a cushioned surface.  
“This looks like an autopsy table.” Dean commented. I could hear it in my ear just from a few inches so he must have been close by still.  
Sam nodded. “Yeah but is that really what it is?”  
Death overheard the conversation going on behind us and commented. “No,” He shook his head. “Think of it as more of a test.”  
“A test?” Sam quizzed with his eyes narrowed. “What exactly are we going to do a test for?”  
Death turned to me, his eyes once again locked. “You may have done a similar thing with that psychic Tairo,” His reminder seemed familiar to me but I wasn’t sure I could recall it. “We’re going to take a little mind walk.” That is when it hit me; Tairo taught my mind to relax enough to allow others into it, to take a brief “walk” literally inside my memories. We were going into the source.

I hadn’t allowed an individual like Death into my mind before, so I was concerned for my own safety. What if he accidentally kills me? I couldn’t bare but think of the boys’ reaction to such a thing. They would for sure try to execute the father reaper. And then… all hell would break loose, as the natural order is no longer. The world’s demise will be my demise!  
I could even think straight for a little while. The thoughts traveling my mind like a word highway of regret. But I had to flush them away until I regained consciousness or no one is going anywhere. So I shook it off, waiting for Death’s signal. He motioned me towards the table so I jumped up quickly. As he faced me, I got myself ready, clearing the mind of disruptions and discussion.  
Gladly, Death had noted his ring was on still. “Best be if I take off my ring. I may stop your heart if I don’t.” It would quickly slide off his grotesque finger and placed beside the four of us. “All right, ready?” He would ask.  
I nodded, laying myself down. “Ready when you are.”  
But Death thought of something at the last minute and eyed the brothers watching with despair. “Dean, I want you to come with us.” He said.  
Dean seemed surprise that it was Death who was giving requests. “What me? Really?”  
Death nodded. “Yes, you two’s bound is strength and we may need it.”  
“Alright, I guess. You sure she can handle the both of us walking in her pudding?” Dean asked.  
“Indeed. She is strong, she’ll get us through.” Death noted.  
“I hope you’re right…” Dean replied as his fingers snaked through mine.  
Death would quickly take note of our brother. “Sam, I want you to stay put and make sure nothing flux gates and everyone comes back.”  
Sam nodded. “Ok.”  
That was the last word the three of us heard. Death’s cold fingers were planted on my forehead before I knew it and bam! The three of us were transported into the depths of my skull. I awoke to the sound of the wind gently blowing on my face as I took a deep breath in for a taste. I found I wasn’t alone.  
I was apparently atop Dean; his heart was pulsating under my fingertips. His eyes would flicker open to meet mine. “Did it work?” He asked. The familiar sound of the echoing in the voice told so.  
“Yeah, it did.” I replied as I crawled up until my boots was what remained on the grassy floor. Dean followed as he rose from his resting place, flutters of grass would flock off his back as he stood upward. I giggled at the sight of his backside being completely covered in green stains. He would grin to the idea.  
But that is when we remembered we’re missing someone. Death was nowhere in our range of sight so we headed down the sloped hillside to see what we could see. No lucky at the end of the hill neither. Did I not let him in? Dean only got in because of our “mystical” bond everyone says we have and the fact we’re life partners.  
“Did you not let Death in?”  
“I’m not sure… I guess I may have.”  
Then all the sudden, the ground right below our feet begun to quiver and shift. I was a bit startled to feel such a sensation; I was starting to wonder if this is my mind’s warning system. I found myself in Dean’s arms as we’d look around for a sign or something to tell us what was happening. Suddenly, a dark mass would appear above us, its clawed fingers mangled into a tangle of mess.  
“Are we supposed to be running?” Dean asked.  
“I’m not sure…” I replied.  
It would morph and ponders above us like a shadowy mass creeping along the daunting floorboards of a haunted hall. That mass would drop rapidly until it managed to hit the grassy field dead on. Dean and I eyed each other, thinking if we should investigate. Onward we headed, cautious of the possibility it could reveal to be. The closer you got the faster your gut would tie itself in a knot.  
It was a familiar feeling though, not like the dreaded kind but more of a sensible impersonation. As Dean and I approached, the mass would grow upward as its claws would dissipate, revealing human-like fingernails and a bony curve of a backside. It was Death. We couldn’t help but get over excited of seeing a familiar form no one would like to meet.  
“Death!” I hollered to him as his grey ovals appealed to us. We began to sprint towards him until you could see his age spots and boned structure of a face.  
“Boy, are we glad to see you.” Dean chuckled towards his sarcasm.  
“Why do you have a need to share sarcastic comments?” Death pointed out. Dean seemed to not care for Death’s dramatic comments; it sounded like someone mumbling a few words. “Let us get a move on before I change my mind.” Death was always a stiff type; he’d prefer nothing from the people and could careless of what they thought.  
Dean and I would follow in close quarters to the reaper, keeping our distance but pace steady. Death’s black overcoat would sway back and forth as he walked, his cane assisting his every move. I wanted to say something, something to get a “friendly” conversation started but it seemed difficult to progress with a soulless reaper like Death around. I’d glance over at Dean who smiled back playfully. With my sights set on my husband, I was unaware of our guide’s sudden planted feet. As I was just about to crash into him, Dean had extended his arm to stop me.  
Death looked onward with his eyes wide. He could make note of something we couldn’t see and for that, I was getting a bit worried of myself. I was surprised to find that we were no longer standing inside the wide open green field but a ravaged room with a dainty paint job chipped off in flakes. The familiarity of the room’s name would surpass me for a brief remembrance from memory. Dean’s eyes trailed the room as if he possible remembered as well.  
“It can’t be…I…” I have only walked forward a little bit before the sound of cracking was heard below my boot. It was an old, ratted picture frame with blackened edges containing a photo of us. It was the same one I kept inside my journal’s cover but why would I keep it etched inside my mind then if I still had the original? Suddenly a shrill was heard from the corner of the room.  
Dean seemed startled, as his silvery gun would appear beside me aimed and ready. I stood still with the frame still in my grips, for some reason I couldn’t let it go. But after staring at it for a good minute, I remembered where we were.  
“Wait,” I suddenly placed my hand on Dean’s extended arm. “I know who it is.” I snapped as my hand begun to push Dean’s arm down gently.  
“What?” Dean replied, his gun now at a standstill at his side. Death seemed fascinated so he stayed put, observing the outcome.  
Out of the corner slid a shy foot as it careful approached us. As the shadows dissipated behind it, it revealed my own mirror image. My double was covered in a dusty layer with wild hair that was untouched and matted with knots. Her fingers were slashed with random cuts that became bruises as you followed up and down her arms and legs. Her clothing looked as if a monster had rip and torn at every edge it could sink its teeth into, I couldn’t believe my self-consciences’ look of poverty.  
“It is you.” Dean commented.  
“It’s my self- conscience actually.” I replied as I placed my hands out towards her. She glanced over at the much cleaner version of Dean as if he was a stranger. “Please,” I spoke softly to get her attention. She eyed me with caution, watching my every move. “We need your help.”  
“Of course you do. Your searching for that thing, aren’t you?” She said with relief.  
“Thing?” Dean seemed confused by the word.  
My self-conscience nodded. “Yes. The Dream master is what you seek.”  
Dean scoffed towards the idea. “The Dream master huh? Sounds like the Boogeyman.”  
“Very funny, Dean.” I took Dean’s joke unlikely. But before I could say anything else, I was interrupted by Death’s sour voice.  
“Heed not the Dream master. He is much more than he is all out to be…” Death empathized.  
“What’d you mean?” I asked.  
“He is a ravaged keeper of the black arts; he despises those with the most complex brains. But I wouldn’t know if he would be your source.” The reaper looked on.  
“So you’re saying this… Dream master guy is afraid of us?” I could tell Dean was heading down the right path by the mellow tone of his voice. I actually was starting to wonder the same thing.  
Death turned on his cane to Dean’s sight. “Not afraid, worried.” Death commented with his grey eyes nailed to Dean’s.  
“You must hurry.” My self-conscience interrupted alarmingly. “He comes.” Suddenly, a great black smoke arises from the floorboards as it creeps its way up towards me. “Run! Get out of here! He’ll kill you! You must hunt him down, Katie before it is too late.” It gained ground fast as it slithered towards us every so faster. I felt a cold sweat drip from my forehead and before we knew it, the smoke was surrounding us, preparing to devour us.  
I could feel Dean’s fingers clamped to my arms as he pulled me back. The gruff sound of Death’s voice was heard so far like standing in the middle of a tornado. Dean would take us back a few inches, hoping we’d make it out alive. A shrill of unbelievable power was tucked away inside the black cloud; I could feel its intensity like a thousand eyes staring you down. Out of the blue, Death would appear in front of us, his backside to the beast of a cloud. I met his glare as he planted his dead, cold hand upon my forehead and everything would stop.

I awoke startled as if my very soul just jumped my outer body. As I gasped for air, Sam jumped up and sprint towards me, his face pale with anxiety. I finally mellowed my air supply out, as I took calm in seeing the familiar face of my brother. Dean was standing next to me; his body motionless and stiff while his eyes drooped in a stare down towards me like a mindless zombie. His stature would stag back as the life in his face returned. He gripped his head, trying to re-balance himself from the sudden intake of oxygen to his brain.  
“You’re back!” Sam said cheerfully. “How did it go?”  
“I…” I glanced over at Dean who had sat down for a breather. “I don’t know.”  
Sam seemed a bit surprised to hear that. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” He quizzed with his eyebrow raised.  
“Maybe bad after seeing that thing come after us.” I mentioned.  
“What about a thing?” He asked after getting a seat.  
I shook my head. “I can’t… really tell you…”  
“It was pretty much a black cloud.” Dean interrupted. “Of what, I don’t know but it defiantly had something against Katie.”  
Sam leaned back in his seat as if in deep thought. “Hmm well that is interest…”  
“What are you thinking, Sammy?” Dean asked after noting his brother’s thinking posture.  
“You know, this sounds an awfully like a mastermind’s plot.” Sam pointed out as he begun to pace around. “I mean it is the perfect plan. Someone doesn’t like Katie and whoever it is their trying to get to her- from the inside out.” He paused at the doorway.  
Dean and I looked at each other. Sammy may have a point there, I thought. What if someone is trying to contact me? Maybe they aren’t the bad guys after all. But I have that strange feeling in my gut that they are the bad guys this time. I couldn’t deny it, I knew that something was twisted and I was going to find out what.

Death escorted us back out into the chilly air of the night. The moon fully lightened the field with its mellow silver lining. It was a full one tonight and beautiful at that. However, in known mythology, the full moon was never a good sign. They tell of stories of witches casting certain spells, werewolves on the prowl and a whole lot of bad luck. Death never really was aware of the sky but once a full moon was upon us, he would notice it right away.  
“Looks as if a full moon.” He’d say.  
“It sure is.” I replied. “Is it a good full moon?” My curiosity got the best of me; I knew he would know if it was or not. He is the father of all reapers and the oldest at that. He’s probably seen numerous full moons with horrible consequences following it.  
Gladly, he shook his head. “No. I’d be more concerned for the eclipse coming.” The wind picked up briefly as his overcoat was raised a few inches from the ground like a dramatic scene in one of those anime shows. Sam’s hair and mine was waving a bit while we stood to take a listen on Death’s suggestion.  
“There’s an eclipse coming?” Dean asked as his spikes swayed in the wind followed by his jacket’s collar.  
Death glared over towards us, a slight grin upon his face. “Indeed there is; a rare one at that. Supposedly the sun’s glare gets reflected off, giving the moon an eerie red glow…” He chuckled. “But I can’t be sure if we should be concerned.”  
I quickly glanced over at the boys who just shrugged. I would have asked more of it but why? I could be doing something more effective right now like sleep. From a mind walk like that, I needed a bit of shuteye. I’m pretty sure the boys wouldn’t hesitate to agree. Just for safety precautions, we’ll probably take the time to research upon it tomorrow.  
“Well alright then. Shall we head out?” Dean asked as he begun to walk towards the Impala.  
“Yeah,” I replied back. “See you around, Death.”  
“I certainly hope not…” Death said back, his eyes nailed to my own. He was right about that. Being on the sight of Death was asking for trouble and being on the list was just asking for more. However, everyone ends up there eventually, that’s just life.  
As I begun away, I could feel the density of Death’s stare. Hesitant to look back, I would ignore it. Being uncomfortable with just the sense of the Grim Reaper’s eyes nailed to you was just way too strong to ignore. I for one hoped I could. Finally, I could see the familiar aerodynamics of the Impala in a few feet up the hillside. That is when the very air transformed into a comfort any one person would love to feel.  
Thank god we got out of there, I told myself. A brief look back caused an obscured pierce up my spinal cord as if a red-hot fear was washed over me. Can’t rub the sensation off until you’ve cleared the hillside is what the locals would say. No wonder this point was formally called Devil’s Outlook. Most feared this part of the canyon and for good reasons. Just up the winding road was the forested land known for its mysterious shadows and deaths.  
As much as the canyon was pretty, not many locals are willing to take the drive up it. The land was owned in the earlier years by raging Indian tribes, some of which turned to cannibalism; just like the Cherikon. The former settlers of our town, Nevada City, dared not to travel very far up the canyon because of this exact reason. The cannibals were what they considered “the devil himself”. Talk about paranoia. However, to this day, the land is still considered cursed and apparently it was for good reason.  
Looking beyond the road does give the creeps I’ll admit that. But, I wouldn’t put the idea of history first especially when you’re in search of something specific. Many legends and tales are hidden within the area’s history, the Winchesters were aware of this the first day they hunted together but that is only because Dean couldn’t find keywords correctly for a search. That is why you find Sammy more heavily packed in his computer, he knows what to look for and always will. This is why he still has the title as the researcher.  
Anyways, as I approached the Impala’s chromed door, I paused briefly. Dean was across from me above the roof. He’d stop to grasping the door handle, clutching his hands together upon its smoothed roof. He knew I was in deep thought over something.  
“What’s up, sweet?” He whispered slightly. I meet his gaze for a moment before turning away.  
I sighed as I looked up at the solid glow of the moon. Its shine reflected gently off the classic muscle’s paint like a glassing mirror with nothing to skew its view. I shook my head. “Nothing… just… thinking…” I replied as my own gaze passed Dean’s and peered into the interior of the shambled leather.  
Dean looked onward for a minute before he sighed and slid into his driver’s seat. I would have indicated I was fine with a slight smirk but I couldn’t for some reason, one I couldn’t put my finger on. I decided to forget about it then. For some reason, It would surpass me, making my urge every so hard to understand. So, I finally got a grip and shook the feeling off as the scenery caught my eye, flashing past in blurs of deep, dark colors.

We arrived home an hour and a half later. Greeted by little Sarah who was far from sleep, she would taunt us to help her to slumber. Dean and I gave a look to each other before the girl had dragged us up the stairs and into her brightened room. Sam couldn’t help but scoff towards the sight as he would turn his attention to his laptop’s screen for a few minutes. Big Mama had just sat herself down, exhausted from Sarah’s needed attention and begun a conversation with our brother.  
Meanwhile upstairs, Dean and I had followed Sarah into her bedroom, as she would jump up into the comfortable springs of the bed, wrapping herself in the blankets lying about. I’d ask what she would want to hear from us tonight and with a cutesy grin, she would say a story would be fine. I sat myself down on the edge of her bed, searching the room for a possible story beginner. Dean wasn’t far behind as he would grab the wooden chair from the corner and stretched himself out until comfortable. My search came to a stop when I stumbled upon a green dinosaur stuffed animal that ended the second self of her stuffed animal collection.  
I got myself ready as I thought it up. It ended up being a story about a dinosaur that was lost from his nest, which traveled far and wide in search of his mother. Of course, Dean wasn’t in the room just to listen; we would switch turns telling the story, making it up as we went along. It ended up the dinosaur did have a happy ending, which was about when Sarah would drift off. I smiled towards her as I observed Dean at his parenting best. I slightly kissed her forehead before silently walking out the room, shutting the door behind me.  
Dean waited just outside the door, eager to catch some shuteye himself. It wasn’t long until all four of us including Big Mama had turned in for the night. Traveling in the Impala was a bumpy trip and exhausting at that. As the house got quiet so did we. Tonight was the night I managed to catch some sleep and I enjoyed every moment of it, as nothing seemed to disturb us.

It was midnight. A storm had been brewing towards the east as it quaked ever so closer in the passing hour. The silence before the storm had caused a ruckus in the depths of the dank darkness of the old hotel on main. Zan could be found wandering the halls as the echoes of the storm made his energy level spark. It has been two years since we’ve seen the evil, twisted minded fiend.  
He was made from Dean’s very DNA with the intentions of good. However, it would backfire as he gained a liking towards horrid deeds and mullet rock. It was true for the other two of his posse – Lonnie was made from my own DNA while his not so biological brother, Rath was made from Sam’s. Their creator was none other than Marik Hansen, a solemn man with the need to gain ground and undying love for his beloved daughter, Isabella. He was forced to join the dark side he never wanted to be a part of as his work was told to be witchcraft and led to nothing but making monsters.  
Lonnie was the only of the three of them that cared for the old master. She wouldn’t take him being harmed mentally or physically, she had the sense of me - she had the sense to help him. However, her love for Zan has gotten out of control as she cusses and swears revenge on the Winchester’s very DNA that created them for this “destiny bond” she never wanted to know. With no hope of escaping what was laid upon her, she turned dark in an instant. And her very soul was no longer caring. She became considered the most obscured of the doc’s experiments, giving him the name as the “monster man”.  
Zan was the less fortunate one, the flame in him was incredibly strong and because of it, he was the one less likely to care. As much as he would like to be good, he wouldn’t be able to live that life and he knows it. To this day, he is the crook the police look for and expect to see in a prison cell in no time. Walking down the empty corridor, Zan would have many things clouding his mind including the fact of admitting love towards the woman the doc looked up to the most. His greatest fear was turning his back towards his own creator but the burning urge inside of him caused an eruption of sorrow and conviction that only one person could fill. And that is the one know as the Mastermind.  
Zan narrowed his sights upon entering the deserted room that lived with dense air and horrid aftertaste. It was dank, about the size of an auditorium with numerous random planks and ledges that led like a catwalk. A wide, low rider window let in the dimmed moonlight in mellow blues. Standing stature and leaned over a few inches was a hooded figure whose red ringed eyes met Zan’s as she approached steadily and stiff. The figure turned its sights back outside into the darkened grass below, contemplating on the thoughts it had winding down to the world abyss.  
Zan noticed Rath was hovering about upon one of the many extra ledges. His dark green highlighted tips made him unseen from the rest of the world. He was more of a loner type anyways; he’d prefer to have time to himself without the hustle and bustle of the crowds making him feel uncomfortable. He would eye Zan from the book he was flipping through, possibly saying whatever or a long ramble of curses. Zan would have said something but he was more concerned with his own needs at the moment.  
The hooded figure kept a straight face as the Dean twin would nail his approach smoothly. Rath would watch from his perch, waiting to eavesdrop upon their conversation as his green eyes would flicker on and off. The red rings returned to Zan like a dagger of red-hot pain had struck the figure’s interaction. However, it would soon vanish as it tilted its head back to frontal, avoiding eye contact after that.  
“Zan,” It began with a hissing of a demonic foe. “I seek of you to keep your intentions high.”  
Zan eyes glossed the figures stature with confusion. “I’m not sure I understand.” He replied.  
The figure smirked. “Hm, I never told of the truth.” Its eyes were nailed to the outskirts where the city’s lights were merged into a dimmed blanket. “This place, this town,” It began confidently. “It has lasted for a long time, longer than most towns would. It was once a land of cannibalism and mistakes that not one person could stand to accomplish alone.” It regained its breath before continuing. “This is why… I want you to help me conquest this place.”  
Zan’s sight remained nailed to the figure. “We get that but you talk like there is something more to your asking besides crushing the No Losers.”  
The figure nodded. “There is so much more and I want you, specifically to discover it.”  
“But what exactly is there to discover?” Zan questioned. Rath was intrigued to hear more as he’d listen in closely.  
The hooded figure lost its smirk as it would drag along and stop beside a table that’s surface was scattered with numerous old, ridged books and maps of the sewers. Zan examined those open wide. He read numerous lines that spoke of black magic and considerable witchcraft over the years. The figure searched frantically through the mess until it found what it seeks. It was a wide rimmed book with frayed edges and a demonic face embossed upon its cover. The vibe it brought with it was eerie like a trapped soul would feel alone and Zan seemed unsure of how to react to such a feeling.  
With a swift flip, the figure had managed its deadwood like fingers through its pages. It would stop on a marked page, which was a mess of scribbles, and writing as the title read in bold letter face: How to resurrect a dark witch. Zan would brief over its words of Latin with complex dexterity, questioning the process and why the Mastermind would consider him for the job. Rath was just as good at understand Latin, probably even a bit better however, when the boss asks for you personally, it is considered a restless choice no one would dismiss. The spell it spoke of wasn’t too much of challenge, just a bit odd. But the thing that really caught Zan’s eye was the fact the blood for it needed a true-blooded person.  
Zan turned his sights back to the hooded figure, shaking his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m not any true blooded person!” He slammed the book closed, as he turned away, discouraged.  
The figure shook his shadowy expression. “No, you may not be. But you’re twin is.” An insecure smirk rose upon its face.  
Zan’s eyes turned back onto the figure. “So you want me to kidnap Dean Winchester?” The figure gave a nod briefly. “You know I won’t be able to get near him, his style of fighting is way beyond my extremes. I only got pieces of his…” He looked down at his hands, displeased with the layback. “He will kill me.” He crunched his hands into fists.  
“Heed not his strength to yours. He has ever more to think about.” The figure said, as its fingers would snake onto Zan’s left shoulder. It got closer as if to whisper into his ear. “You’re much more than you see yourself, Zan.”  
Zan shook his head while quickly pushing the figure away. “Get off my back. You aren’t my creator or my mother and I could care less of your little “job” you think I’m willing to do. So why don’t you find someone else!” Frustrated, Zan paced quickly away, slamming the giant door behind him.  
The figure stood discouraged with frustration. He knew there was only one hope for his plan to proceed if Zan didn’t make a decision quickly. Rath was basking in the gossip he just heard as he gathered his clutter and begun away to his room. The figure with the darkened expression would mossy his way back to the low rider window, staring out it immensely as he thought about the possible outcome. Twenty minutes later, the doors would open smoothly followed by a sigh.  
Zan approached the Mastermind once again and stopped midway, staring down the figure as if looking for the correct words. “Ok,” He began. “You win.” The Mastermind was pleased to hear his decision and on rolled a dark smirk upon his face.

The next morning, I awoke to an awkward sight of Sarah and Big Mama gazing upon the television screen. It was the morning news with Dan Salzburg, all clean cut and shaved to his scruff with his straight dark blazer prim and proper. Apparently today’s news was an important one:  
Good morning, I’m Dan Salzburg with breaking news. Today marked the day of the final verdict of Nevada City for the return of the wanted group that calls themselves “The Runaways”. An amateur photographer who took these shots of the wanted criminals has informed police. It showed three distinct photos of our twin’s backside, one even caught their faces half visual. Nevada City Police have urged for all citizens to stay indoors as much as possible. This three are very dangerous and is convicted of murder. If you have any information on these three individuals, please contact the police.  
“Oh not good…” Big Mama commented as she sent a look my way.  
“Does this mean we’re in trouble?” Sarah asked as I stroked her hair kindly.  
I shook my head. “No,” My fingers continued through her hair until they stopped midpoint. “But this does mean there truly is trouble brewing and we’re smack dab in the middle of it.”

I was eager to seek out answers so I got my team right on it. I had the boys go in search for info on the eclipse coming our way while Cameron went to the fridge to do what he does best, eat. Yessie and I took the most dangerous duty, to observe the Runaways’ whereabouts and try to comprehend what in the world these troublemakers were up to. But first, we need some technology related help. Luke is our one-to guy who has made numerous inventions and gizmos you could only find within his secret workshop.  
His secret workshop is actually one of most well hidden places you’d have a tough time finding. For one, it is literally hidden in plain sight and for two; he resides within it with his junk piles and collection of being a slob. Luke actually has been our personalized tech guy for a long time. Since me and Yessie moved to Nevada City, he was one of the first people we’d see racing in his not-so-long lost crew called the No Namers. However, they never seemed to fit in with the racing style as most of the group was made up of random occupations and anticipated to be losers. But no one was willing to admit defeat in those days as today it is only my group that remained together for the long run.  
Approaching the rundown abandon parking garage, you get a tight sense of being trapped. The walls were dank with water damage and cracked interior. Who in the world would get the mind to live in this place? Mildew and rust was common among the air shafts as it would build up so much, it could make someone ill to their stomach. Luckily for Luke, he was more than less satisfied with his working place.  
“Luke!” I called into the horrid lighting. It was dead silent for a couple minutes before someone’s cold fingers rolling up Yessie’s spine. She flipped around startled towards the mysterious owner. He stepped a few inches closer into the light where his face was revealed of a dirty mess of ash and fresh grease all over his clothing.  
“My god, don’t do that…” Yessie grumbled under her breath.  
Luke grinned big. “Ha, you should learn not to expect the unexpected then.” His deep blue eyes would glaze over to me. “What can I do for you, girls?” He asked as he turned his attention away quickly onto a new gadget he was piecing together.  
“We were hoping you possibly had an amplifier on you…” I could tell he was listening closely to my request; he would rummage through his boxes of items in search for it but couldn’t seem to find one.  
“Hmm I believe I may have one but not out here. Hang on, I’ll check the back.” Luke replied as he disappeared behind a door.  
While he looked, Yessie and I took our own tour of the place, checking out all the gizmos and inventions that lay about. One of which was similar to a graveling hook with full range lock and impressive wiring made of strands of pure electric conductors. Luke would appear once again with a decent shaped amplifier. He would place it before us to give a visual ok of use approval. Then he would hand it over to me.  
“There you go one amplifier in about great condition.” He noticed Yessie and I was checking out his newest invention. “You guys checking out my new creation?” He’d ask.  
I glanced over at Yessie who had it in her grips still. “Yeah, what is it?”  
“It’s a full range electric Taser wire link.” He replied, taking it in his grips.  
“That’s some name.” Yessie commented. “Why don’t you just call it like an ETWL or something?”  
He eyed her, unsatisfied with her suggestion. “Nah, I suppose you’re right though. I’ve been meaning to give it a shorter name…”  
I thought for a moment for a name and I came up with a TWT – Tactic Wire Taser. Luke seemed pleased with that meaning so he accepted it. I was just happy to help.  
“Want to see how it works?” He asked as he strapped it on his wrist. Yessie and I nodded.  
Shortly after, we had moved outside the main workshop floor and onto the grassy terrain outdoors. Luke would point our attention towards a straw dummy he had tied to two planks of wood. He usually used this dummy to test out the inventions he made, most of which were specifically for us. The one Luke was about to show us was adapted for tactical operations the police here are lucky enough to engage in. Actually, our town’s police were known for taking in some of the most dangerous and brutal criminals and this new Taser would help them achieve their task properly. The Colonel and his brigade should be equipped with the new technology in the next couple of years, same goes for us when Luke gets the chance to take a test run.  
Luke gave us his cute charm of a smile before he revealed the device’s power. His fingers would trigger the wiring at lightning fast speed, once its target was set, a few minor moves by his arm strength and the dummy was wrapped tight in thin wire. Once you had it where you wanted it, preferably away from the main organs, a pulsating rage of electricity would snake up to its victim causing blackouts and painful warning signs for an attempting escapee. Observing how it worked, it seemed quite reliable and effortless as the device itself did most of the work. I wouldn’t mind having one of those just for the heck of it. However, it may just piss off whatever you’re hunting at the time so maybe not for supernatural hunts but human attacks yes.  
“That’s pretty wicked little device you got there.” Yessie commented, examining it closely.  
Luke smirked. “Thanks, Yes -Yes. Here,” He handed the TWT off to me along with a few other ones. “Maybe you guys could find a use for these as well.”  
“But there your only prototypes, you sure?” I asked gazing at him.  
Luke nodded. “It’s fine; I’ve got the blueprint right here. Besides, the ones I’m required to make for the Colonel’s team have a few more extras to add. But your guys are probably the more stylish ones anyhow.” He noted the colors and comfortable material the true device was covered in and winked. “Enjoy!”

Yessie and I left after a quick stop for coffee. Walking down Main with your beverage in hand and taking in the mumbles of the town’s people was an excellent escape. We were about to turn on to 400th when I got an urgent call from Dean. He sounded as if out of breath like in some sort of panic as his tone would echo in and out awkwardly:  
Katie, we’ve got major trouble coming our way  
What kind of trouble?  
I’m… not sure but it sounds big. Get here as quickly as you can  
Alright, on our way  
I quickly ended the call, as Yessie would turn to me, wondering what was going on. “Who was that?” She asked.  
“It was Dean and it sounded urgent.” I replied as our direction chanced towards the direction of the local library.  
We would arrive as quickly was Dean and I had ended our call. Yessie followed as I lead the way towards the computer area where Sam sat at the keyboard, his eyes followed us until we stood beside him.  
“There you are.” He said. “Dean and I found something about this suppose reddened eclipse.” He turned his attention back toward the computer screen as his minimized windows popped up revealing relevant info on the rumored eclipse coming. “And according to this article, it’s one of the greatest and rarest events to occur.”  
Skimming it briefly, I read that it was a rare occurrence every two hundred years or so that supposedly helped strengthen those ill and bedridden with its mystical rays. It also said that its power is unbelievable for the mind to comprehend as it supposedly was the best eclipse to gain supreme power over your peers and enhance any possible spells or summoning that happens the night of. That’s a lot of crap this town doesn’t need. And thinking about the news report this morning, our doubles had reappeared once again in our midst. Something must be going down because of this eclipse, now we just had to find out what.  
“This doesn’t sound good.” I commented. “Surely there is something you dug up that our doubles are looking for.”  
Sam shook his head as he grabbed an open book and examined it closely. “Well that’s the thing. There is nothing about any spell or summoning ritual that calls for a rare, red moon from what we’ve read. It’s just pure hocus pocus and myths that come with it.” He tapped one of the pages with the pen he was mouthing.  
“But then why are your creepy doubles just surfacing then? Shouldn’t there be something more at stake here?” Yessie questioned as she sat down with one of the books in hand.  
“Good point.” I added on. “There must be something, anything at all.”  
Sam scanned the book again but found nothing. He shook his head. “I’ve searched at least twice now; there is nothing that I can see.”  
I was getting a knot in my stomach. What if our doubles beat us to it? I couldn’t rub the sensation that there was something we seemed to not find or something we missed. But what was it? My brother seemed a bit frustrated by now but he too knew something was probably there but it just wouldn’t show.  
That’s when the light bulb went off in Sam’s head. “Katie, why don’t you go see if Dean could find anything in the old records, I haven’t heard from him in awhile.”  
I nodded as I left my brother and best friend to try and seek out answers once again. Heading down the stairs into the basement was kind of an uneasy feeling as the lights seemed a bit dimmer down here than they were in the main library area. As I reached the door, I noticed Dean flipping through the block computers database, reading on old newspapers and records. He would take notice of my when I approached from the darkness and offered me the seat next to him. As I sat down, I watched the black and white images fly away and appear again.  
“Did you find anything yet?” I asked quietly.  
Dean shook his head. “Not yet, just a few suppose epidemics and bar brawls. Talk about a bad rep era.” He chuckled slightly.  
I smiled towards my spouse’s not so hidden sarcasm. He would stop reeling randomly to read the fine print of the articles, one of which caught his attention immensely. I would look over his shoulder at the possible finding as my eyes attempted to adjust to the sight of small print.  
“Are you reading this?” He questioned thoughtfully as his wondering got me interested.  
It was an article about a settlement in late 17th century that was highly dedicated in ending witchcraft by the famous burning of the stake and accusing young women. This one specifically made its point about a woman named Grey Harrison who refused to be commended for the use of witchcraft. And supposedly as the story goes: Grey was trying to outrun the townspeople. With her was her daughter, Dante who herself was considered to as well have the capacity of witchcraft in her blood. As Grey travelled farther and farther away from the town’s main square, she was cornered by a group of witch hunters at the edge of town. They would threaten to kill her daughter in front of her unless she gave herself in return. She ended up surrendering herself to the hunters but Dante managed to escape and where she ended up was what surprised us the most. She ended up right here in Nevada City.

“Did you see this?” Dean asked his brother as he slapped down the printed article. Sam seemed startled by the rage in his big brother’s tone but despite it, he begun to read the article to himself. His eyes would widen to the very last line.  
“Why didn’t I see this before?” Sam replied sympathetically, pushing his hair up.  
Yessie gave a sideways look towards the article when Sam placed it down. Her expression would tell me one thing and one thing only, what in the world is still going on. However, filling in the details would take all day. Now we’ve got a lead and we need to take it. So I guided our group to the edge of town where our troublemakers of twins coincided with no one to bother them but their own guilt and no passion.  
As we observed our mirrored images, a good snack was in hand and a friendly time. Stakeouts were always long and quiet; most wouldn’t stand to even countering them for their absence from the world, it’d drive a man mad. Our attention was small for a few hours before Zan, with his crazy spikes of purple showed himself. I glanced over at Dean who seemed a bit antsy in the sight of his double, revenge is common among us and Dean was the worst one to show it. He knew I was watching but I could sense he wanted to take the guy out with his own bare hands just to teach him a lesson.  
I would have to admit with him since my double was still the leader of the pack. I was to0 blamed for a few crimes myself by her image and the same feeling was still growing inside. To take my mind off it, I would continue my observation of Zan who would stop randomly and glare into the brush ahead of him. I wasn’t surprised when he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, taking one to the mouth and quickly lighting it just as swiftly. Dean was watching eagerly as if figuring his approach beforehand.  
“You’re not thinking about going down there, are you?” I asked curiously finally.  
The tension in his back stated otherwise. He would remain silent for a while, glaring heavily upon the screen we watched. Talk about an awkward experience. However, I could tell something was going through the man’s mind and it wasn’t good or bad, just dead set on being a maniac with an ice pick and a fiendish attitude. But one thing I did know, you can’t take the revenge out on just about anyone, it must be the exact target.  
As much as the next person, I preferred for us to stay low for as long as possible. Having your target spooked by a sudden gouging attack was certainly not a conversation starter. Dean of course, would rather not speak of a timeless attempt he didn’t take. He’d rather give the proof than live without knowing what really was out there. Our lives are pretty much that whole sentence right there, proving people wrong about something supernatural is just a part of it. Seeing the fact my husband would rather pick a fight than state a claim scared me. But what can you do?  
Dean’s intentions would grow fierce as Zan’s image would pace back and forth among the screen, his smoldering cigarette growing thin. If Dean chose to attack, he’d make this stakeout less than comforting. A bit on edge by my spouse’s intentions, I’d roll my office chair back to check out the scene Sam was acquired by. He was grounding through numerous papers of the witchcraft trials and Salem’s suppose mythical hot spot. Looking closer you could find Grey’s and Dante’s name highlighted with mellow yellow ink and random scribbles. When my brother was in research mode, much would have to happen in order to get his attention away, at times, he would actually seem a bit crazed by it like an accidental sip of sour milk.  
He knew I was hovering behind him but could careless of what I was doing. His full attention was all on the numerous clippings and articles scattered about. His shoulders told me how strict-ridden he actually was as they fringed into a pile of pure denial and missing opportunities. Sam always wanted to be a lawyer, in the back of his mind this dream was still there but he for one knew that leaving his brother was like leaving a companion; he just didn’t have the guts to do so. Sam was always the sensible one; he never meant to harm or to harass anyone, just the evil beings that haunted the siblings’ past. It’s the family business, Dean would say with dignity and confidence, it will always be.  
Dean looked across the room at me suddenly, his eyes the size of softball as his notable flip phone would come alive with the sound of vibration. We all were caught off guard as each head in the van would snap back to figure the commotion. Dean would make haste at the number as if putting a face to it like a detective – it was the cell phone number of Bobby Singer.

Dean didn’t winch when he made note of the seven digits within his mind contacts. It was indeed a surprise to hear the familiar grumble of the Winchesters’ former fatherly figure. Dean eagerly picked up the call:  
Bobby?  
It’s about time you picked up you idjit.  
Why? Is something wrong?  
Well hell with ya, why do you think I wouldn’t call if that was the case?  
I don’t…  
Just shut up and listen, all right? And put my on speaker so Sam could hear me out.  
With a quick tap of the speaker button, Bobby’s daunting voice could be heard as me and Sam got in close to fore take upon the conversation.  
Sam, Dean, Katie- Sioux Falls seems to have a situation.  
What kind of situation?  
A bad one at that; seems in just about every hundred miles or so there is damn flying beast hovering over the locals.  
Flying beasts?  
I’m telling you, it’s a bit odd around here but I know you three have seen something like this in Illinois.  
Well yeah but it just ended up being a stray kite.  
What Dean is asking- is it legit?  
Oh I promise, it’s legit, you think I’m lying to you?  
No, of course not Bobby, were hearing you out.  
Well if you boys are willing to come by to check it out…  
No problem, Bobby. We’ll be there.  
Just don’t take the wrong road again, you idjits.  
The conversation ended with Dean hanging up. The three of us would look at each other, curious by this new case of mysterious flying beast. Maybe it’s a lead, I thought as we emanated our schedules for later. Zan can wait; we’ll catch them once this deal with Bobby’s hometown is investigated. However, every hour we edged closer to the eclipse in the next two weeks and tension was high.  
The Impala roared as it drove down the empty highway 51. Sam was in the passenger seat, busily at work on his sleek, bold laptop searching for clues of the possible sightings within Sioux Falls. I would lay clumsily outstretched upon the small backseat with my head propped up against the army men stuffed ashtray. You could probably imagine the ride with anonymous bumps that rattled the suspension awkwardly upward. But just keeping a grip to the seat was hard enough; leather isn’t the most “slide-proof” material. However, it is the easiest to clean.  
I would slide back and forth ever once in awhile but it wasn’t very much of a big deal until we hit the dirt road. Sam’s coffee just about flew all over the windshield and his lap which wouldn’t have been a very pleasant singe. We had stopped for the cups of Joe a couple miles back at a rundown old gas station with little or few happy people. Talk about bad customer service. Cussing and carrying on would defiantly not improve business with clerks like those. However, the manager would soon find out that he made the mistake of hiring the wrong people so he offered his consultancies and gave us free Joes on the house.  
That was nice of him hence we had traveled all afternoon with no sign of the welcoming sign of Sioux Falls. It wasn’t about the time of sundown we run across the sign and a strange dark cloud hovering over.  
“Was it supposed to rain today?” I asked. Dean was in the passenger seat now with his eyes half asleep, half awake. He shook the exhaustion off with a quick slug of his now cold coffee.  
He swallowed and glanced around the scene. “I don’t think so…”  
Suddenly, out of nowhere, came a giant fifty inch winged thing that swooped down so damn close to the Impala’s windshield Sam slammed the brakes startled. “Holy...” Sam cried as he tried to catch his breath. A little bit disoriented, we immediately jumped out the Impala’s doors and whipped our heads back out towards the way we came.  
There, in the tree beside the road perched was the massive beast with its back to us. It was pitch black in color with a feather lined spine and a good sized tail swinging back and forth playfully with a wide forked spike in the shape of an anchor. The boys and I stood in the middle of highway 51 trying to believe what we see before us. Bobby was telling the truth! There really are giant flying beasts!  
But knowing us, it wasn’t going to be left alone until we knew what we’re looking at. I was cautious to approach it head on, hoping to dear god it wasn’t hungry for long pig. However, most things we’ve come across are indeed in search of human – Leviathan and Wendigo being two to name off. This thing on the other hand, you can’t just jump to conclusions. Being the size it was and it’s abilities seen so far, this thing could very possibly careless about the thin-skinned two-legged creatures about. But that’s about the moment Sam pointed out the cattle in the field next to us.  
Laying flat against the picket white fence was a mutilated cow with its abdominal torn and leaking bodily fluids including its intestine being on the outside, where mind you, it shouldn’t be. “This must be its feeding ground.” Sam noted while Dean prodded the corpse thoroughly with a stick.  
“My guess is just as good as yours.” Dean replied, his stick now up straight beside him.  
“If that’s the case,” I came in with my heed voice. “We should probably move out, go talk to Bobby about what we’ve found.”  
Sam and Dean nodded in union, a good indication I was right. As quickly as we got out, we got back into our spots within the Impala’s four doors. It wasn’t long until we hit the right stretch of road where the old, grumpy hunter would hide. He moved around constantly from location to location, most hunters did to keep off the police heat grid. It was just another thing to worry about when it came to this job, next to being eaten of course. However, most hunters get killed rather than being devoured alive but you can’t blame the creature, you blame yourself. I may have only being on this path for seven or eight years but I still know the ropes.  
Bobby’s hideaway this time was an old hunting cabin in the middle of a dogwood forest with just the noise of crickets and owls to keep you up at night. Sam and Dean have stayed here a couple times and believe me, you wouldn’t want to get stuck sleeping on the couch. But it was defiantly a great escape from the hustle and bustle of the city life and I enjoy that. Approaching the door, Dean would raise his fist, about to knock when the door would swing up with the face of a grumpy, old hunter with a scruffy beard and drooping eyes. It was Bobby with his infamous hat and plaid shirt.  
He would smile and greet the boys with a hug. I’ve only know Bobby for a couple years but the boys have known him for at least twenty. He was known as Uncle Bobby anyways we’re not related and he was willing to welcome me into the family with open arms unlike most other woman he’s met. Without hesitating, the scruffy man would smile towards me and say howdy. I would take it as a friendly gesture as he invited us inside. He motioned us towards the lumpy couch I told you of before and offered the boys a cold one.  
The boys were happy to oblige as they would need it if we went to investigate this creature mayhem later. Uncle Bobby turned his attention towards me and offered a glass of water to keep me occupied. I obliged as he turned to the rusty sink within the kitchenette area, pulling out a glass and filling it to its mid line. He turned back to us and handed the glass off towards me. Finally, he would join us by leaning up against the kitchenette counter comfortable with the familiar faces.  
“Glad you three came.” He began with a stride towards the real issue.  
“No problem, Bobby.” Dean replied willingly, taking a slug of his ice cold beer. Sam agreed with a nod.  
“I’m sure you saw the welcome committee at the entrance of town?” Bobby asked.  
I nodded. “Yeah, just one of them though.”  
“Bobby, what was that thing?” Sam added on precariously.  
The old hunter turned his attention towards the unorganized pile of ratty books sitting atop the dining table. He noted one specifically, picking it out and opening it to a marked page. Its rough cover was slammed slightly onto the coffee table in front of us. Sam would tilt his head to a clear view and begun to skim it briefly.  
“Seriously? Dragons, again?” Dean replied as he rose from his seat. He had begun to walk about, pacing back and forth with his beer in hand and stroking his face. I could tell he was a bit out of the idea for the famous fantasy icon. But one thing you should know, dragons are difficult to kill due to the fact that only a sword welded with authentic dragon blood could kill one. And those are usually extremely rare, Visyak was the last person we knew that owned one however, Dean sort of “accidentally” broke it in half so we only had a piece while the rest of the sword was lost in the rubble of stone. Talk about a bad break after being frustrated with a pile of rock.  
As much as I hated the idea that, I knew that this problem wouldn’t fix itself. However, according to Bobby’s tone, there is much more of those dragons, probably a whole herd. One puny toothpick wouldn’t do much if that’s the case. But still the questions rolled on my tongue, why are they here?  
Bobby broke my concentration as his rough voice was active. “You boys think you could handle more than one?”He asked gruffly.  
Dean was now leaning against the light colored wallpaper, his eyes rolled. “We only have one sword that could do damage…” Sam hesitated; his brother had taken the spotlight.  
“It’s only a half of one actually.” Dean added with a snooty attitude that sounded less than satisfied. “We wouldn’t want to piss it off with a stick.” Dean glared across to Bobby as if pleading for the lucky break of him having a sword.  
Bobby bit his lip. “Well I don’t have a whole one or even one for that matter. So don’t look at me.”  
I wanted to pitch in my opinion but I was too busy trying to consider what I was saying first. “Maybe you don’t but I bet a certain someone could help us find one.” I noted my idea to the ceiling as if gesturing a hint. Dean caught it right away but he wasn’t certain for the outcome.  
“Katie is right.” Sam said. “Maybe Cas could help us out.”  
Bobby nodded. “I agree. He may know what exactly the hell is going on.”  
Dean would feel awkward with us staring at him. “Why is everyone looking at me?”  
I nudged Sam to reply as thoughtfully and nicely as possible. “Well… Cas does kind of only answer to you…” He pointed out awkwardly.  
My spouse seemed frustrated with the fact that Cas chose to ignore requests from certain people. Sam could call him down too but he most likely wouldn’t show up very eager. Despite this though, Dean would pray a few words.  
“Now I lay down to sleep, I pray to Castiel, to bring his feathery ass down here.” He paused, scanning the room for any sign of a wing flapping or the sudden appearance of another body. It wasn’t long until the angel would appear with his infamous tan trench coat and messy tie. Cas was the type of angel you could find in a crowd with his less than stoic expression and tired eyes. Of course, he was riding a tax accountant.  
Cas eyed the bodies in the room, meeting Dean in the middle. “Hello.” He said in an obscure kind of way like it was awkward. But I wouldn’t blame him, he is an angel for pete sake and for that, his “people skills” are rusty. He stood there like a stiff log, staring at Dean’s face with nothing to say.  
Dean was just thankfully he showed up. He’d turn his mind back to what we needed. “Hey Cas, could we have a minute?”  
Cas scanned the ground like a nervous wreck, possibly for words. “For you, yes.” He’d reply.  
“Great. So first off, does your god squad have any idea of what’s going on down here?” Dean asked first.  
“You mean the shadow dragons?” Cas added immediately. “Yes, we’re aware of the situation.”  
Dean seemed wordless suddenly. That was probably the fastest moment Cas had ever replied to, what is there to say now. I could tell by his expression he wasn’t sure what to build on. Sometimes it sucks to have your angelic ally ahead of your game and this time was one of these few. Gladly, Bobby was willing to take the bullet this time around.  
“Wait, you said shadow dragons. What’s that suppose to mean? ” Our uncle wondered.  
Cas looked awkwardly onward, his stare as cold as a hawk. “Dragons of the dark they are also called. They only appear when a certain time of year is near.” He would gaze outside the spotted window from the rainstorm brewing outside.  
“So you’re saying that these… things are specifically known as shadow dragons. What’s so special about them, do they travel by the dark or something?” Dean asked, narrowing down possibilities.  
Cas had moved a few inches forward, fiddling with a figurine of a horse he found. He’d pause to reply to his “profound bound” buddy. “They’re much more than you think of them being.” He set the figurine back down gently turning his heels. “They can only be killed if their master is destroyed beforehand.”  
“Master?” I asked curious.  
“Yes,” Cas nodded. “He is the one you seek to find in order to defeat these dragons.”  
“You’re saying a sword merged with dragon blood isn’t going to do anything?” Dean added on.  
Cas shook his head. “Not just a sword, the sword.”  
“Ok now I’m really confused.” Dean commented with a sigh.  
“The sword you need to find to kill the master is a special sword. A sword of which was forged during the gilded age, one that possesses magnificent power that is said to destroy even the most wicked.” The angel summarized.  
Sam and I meet each other’s gaze, wondering if such a concept actually existed. It kind of sounded like a fairy tale if you were asking me. “Sounds similar to the legend of Excalibur, is this for real?” Sam quizzed efficiently.  
Cas didn’t seem interested in our numerous questions but knew he’d have to answer to them. He turned his attention out towards the window as if searching for a source of help. “Yes.” He’d reply finally.  
“Well alright,” Dean begun. “Where would we find this “mystical sword” at?”  
Cas turned back around, his face a scowl of annoyance. “The sword cannot be specifically found, it comes to you when you seek it.”  
"So this sword... it has a mind of its own?" I asked.  
The trench coat angel was more than agitated by now. He hated the way we'd always pity ourselves and grovel at his feet for his knowledge of the most proactive situations or objects. However, the angel never seemed too bothered to even care. In a way, his feelings still confuse us, even to this day. I'm pretty sure actually, he's never really learned to use them properly.  
"I suppose your terms are correct..." He'd reply relevantly.  
Sometimes, it is kind of a challenge to depict what exactly he means. His words seem to dissipate into a mess of mumbles and puzzles only one could decipher.  
Dean would interrupt my state of mind, catching me off guard. "Ok, just to summarize, this sword..."  
"The Sword of Belford." Cas interrupted rudely.  
"Alright, alright, the Sword of Belford - Can kill the mastermind behind this... dragon invasion. Say we do find him and gank him with it, what happens next? The dragons just... disappear or are we to expect more?"  
Cas nodded briefly. "It will destroy the mastermind and his league but only with the one who bestows the sword can conquer him."  
"Now you have seriously screwed me over." Dean said frustrated.  
"Let me clarify." I interrupted. "So you’re saying that the sword has a mind of its own?"  
The angel was less than satisfied with the fact of my repetition. But he’d rub it off. “Why must I repeat myself? I’ve told you this already.”  
Bobby was still on the sidelines, observing the conversation from a far as it grows in depth. Sam would budge himself in with a quick clear of the throat. “Ok, enough repetition guys!” He rose to his boots, his eyes piercing ours with empathy. “What we really need is know where the sword is, not clarifying the details to a point where we’re all confused.”  
Cas nodded. “Sam is correct.”  
“But where are we to look?” Dean grumbled.  
That is when it hit me, I remember briefly of a sword Grams had kept with her numerous curios and “enchanted” items within the basement of hers. Being that she has now passed on, her will stated us would be the new owners of the small, Japanese home with dark windows and paper doors. But I wasn’t necessarily sure it was the right sword but it wouldn’t hurt to check, right?  
“Hey Cas,” I begun as all the eyes in the room slid over to me. “You mind doing us a favor?”  
“Katie, we’re looking for the —“I placed my two fingers upon Dean’s lips, telling him I chose to speak.  
“Could you help by transporting us somewhere?” I asked persuadably.  
The angel seemed confused as his thoughts were lost in a vortex somewhere. But Cas for one knew that if the Winchesters wanted to be transported somewhere, there must be a legit reason why yet he still hesitated.  
“I can see that it may be a truthful reason. Where would you wish to go?” Cas emphasized.  
I glanced over at Sam and Dean who nodded to the sign of approval. I knew they’d ride along with me; they always enjoyed a new perspective. My sights were set on Cas as his glaze told of deep listening. “Mikasa, Japan”  
“Japan? What for?” Dean quizzed.  
I met the gaze of my husband with his ovals of hazel pinching my own gaze. “I have a feeling that Grams had more than you’d expect in that basement of hers.” I said as I went over to the doorway hanger to retrieve my Levi jacket.  
It was only a few seconds later that the boys had slid their own thick jackets on and rounded out our mini circling that formed around Cas. He would raise his index and pointer finger and stride it gently over until his fingertips were glued to my forehead. The whole woody cabin room would dissipate rapidly into oblivion. Just a few seconds later, we found ourselves standing in the middle of a dusty road which corralled the small, lonely house with darkened windows and daunting stonework. While I rummaged through my numerous keys, Cas had presently pushed himself forward just out of complete curiosity of such a place.  
Continuing my search, I found our own house’s keys and the extra to the Impala just to become frustrated with the horde. But finally, I had found one to match the keyhole. Shuffling my way to the door, I wedged the key in effortlessly while turning it slowly until a sudden click was heard from the inside. As the door ached on its hinges, we all piled in the darkness heavy and concentrated.  
“Hold on, I’ll get a light.” I said into the black. I could feel Dean a few inches in front of me as I’d grab his arm awkwardly believe it was Sam at first. “Sorry.” I whispered as I took my hand away.  
“That would be me.” Dean replied as if being a help.  
Using my fingertips, I scanned the walls for the switch. But it was Sam who found it first as his fingers were pinched upon its plastic eggshell. Cas was found standing awkward towards the living area as if unsure of what to do next. He always was clueless to the things humans do, never the less, wrecked from the garrison’s perception. Who would have thought an angelic being could get in so much truce from humans could be a problem. Cas always hated to admit it but he does stick around us man for a bit longer than suggested, it’s starting to effect his solitude to the others. As much as the boys and I want to help him, we shouldn’t intervene with the angels’ sobriety.  
Noting the surroundings, the main room was cluttered to the ceiling with numerous individual curios and gizmos. Many of these curios and objects were considerably ranked into the supernatural. One I noticed right away was a Kuhung mask, an extinct tribe of the Northwest. Not much is known about them, just the fact their ideals of spirituality was considered heavy with black magic. Some say, evil magic resides inside their masks which tell tales of those lost in war but it’s just a superstition.  
“Didn’t you say the basement?” I could hear my brother’s thoughts form as his voice rolled across us like a tidal wave.  
I managed to push myself over to him. With a nod, Sam started to descent down the shallow stairwell that led into the pitch blackness it bestowed. Dean, Cas and I followed him until the subbasement was reached and the darkness was tainted by the light of a single burning light bulb. I told the group to scow the place for the sword. I swear that we have gone through more than a hundred boxes, bags and collections, finding nothing.  
We were about to give up when Cas’ intellect pointed out a bolted shut door hidden behind a mountain of dusty cardboard. Dean was the one to investigate the rustic style door as he managed his fingers around it rusting hinges and pounding his fist for stability. Dean backed away a couple feet to where we stood, staring immensely towards its wooden silhouette.  
“Is it safe?” I asked finally, wondering for the best.  
Dean bit his lip, nodding briefly. “Yeah, seems sturdy.”  
“But why would a door be in farthest corner of a subbasement? It makes no sense.” Sam scanned the boxes we’ve thrown aside to make room. He picked up a picture frame, analyzing it briefly before returning it to its original spot.  
“That’s a good question, Sammy.” Dean replied, his eyes restlessly searching the site. His complex expression made haste towards finding something to break the bulky lock that kept the world out. He would return with a crowbar and a mallet in hand. “You mind trying to pick it first?” He sent a sideways look towards his brother.  
Sam would oblige by pulling out his lock pick from one of his hidden pocket. He kneeled down to get a better look as his needle pick begun to play with the mechanism inside. Dean waited impatiently for Sam to manage a lock brake but he seemed to be struggling a bit. The mechanism of the lock seemed to have rusted over due to the locked in moisture. There is one thing rust is good at--- Rusting itself over.  
“You pull a muscle, Sammy?” Dean said sarcastically. Sam sent up a dirty look towards his big brother. Dean couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.  
“No it’s --“Sam hesitated as he watched Castiel step up to the door. “What are you thinking of doing, Cas?” He whispered.  
The angel gave a brief glance towards the younger Winchester before proceeding. Cas placed his palms flat on the door’s surface, pushing in, he crunched up his hands. Sam had backed away to where Dean and I stood, watching as Cas revealed yet another power of his. With on final push, the door would crackle into millions of wooden shards as if an atomic bomb had been activated. The boys gave me cover from the debris as the flakes rolled off Sam’s backside, our sights were in shock as the angel stood in front of a now gaping hole where the door use to be.  
“Holy—“Dean was about to swear under his breath towards the dramatic found room that seemed to have been set to be hidden. While Sam would be the first to take a closer look, scanning the room’s content.  
“Nice job, Cas.” I replied happily, patting him on the back. He kept a straight face from my friendly gesture suggesting he for one didn’t really understand the concept of a smile.  
The angel and I would follow the boys inside to take a closer look. There, smack dab in the middle of the room, was a massive chunk of boulder, about half as tall as Sam and broken down to a wide spread of ragged proportions. Wedged in between where the rock hugged the other rock was an aluminizing sight of a magnificent sword with a handle made of pure onyx and a shiny exterior. It was defiantly pretty but was it the right one? Only Cas would know. So I would send Cas up to take a closer look.  
Gingerly, Cas would scan the sword’s gleaming surface with his two zapping fingers. The boys and I were anxious to know if our search was over. However, our dream was crushed when Cas glanced over and shook his head. “This isn’t the sword we seek.” He replied.  
“Then if this isn’t the sword of—whatever then where is the real one?” Dean quizzed towards the angel.  
Cas got his feet planted back down to solid ground and gazed effortlessly towards his friend. “I’m sorry but I don’t know.”  
Dean looked down for moment while Sam and I became dumbstruck. Apparently, this sword was going to be a tough one to find. Where in the world would such a sword be?  
Professor Peterson always seemed like the sweet, old historian of town. His knowledge could extend pass the brinks of time. His assistant, Mac was a close friend of mine. A couple years back, the two of us, along with the boys, had taken part of the Egyptian conquest in search for the only item of its kind- one of which no one except Death himself could control fully: The Staff of the Dead. However, after the situation of finding and retrieving the staff, Mac had taken it for himself that would cause devastation with the famous “curses of the Nile” under his wing.  
Today, Mac is locked away from the world inside his lonely cell at Christian Banks’ Correction Facility, a prison one hundred and fifty-five miles away from where Nevada City’s boundaries start. I was afraid to admit it but asking Mac may not sound like a bad idea. Being next to the Professor for twenty so years, he could help lead us the right direction for this sword we seek. I was just more concerned with his fierce identification of me showing back up. He’s gain a horrid amount of revenge towards us for putting him in his cell in the first place. But it had to be done.  
Cas had zapped us to the vastness of the empty prairie where the forest rose in the distance. The prison itself was a massive building with at least five floors of complete bars of steel and angry prisoners shouting and cussing towards the others being noisy. The angel seemed unsure of why such a place was built and loaded to the core with thousands of maddened men that were twice as big as the boys were, covered in tattoos and using boxes of cigarettes as bargaining chips. So he decided to take in the breeze outside the prison yard to avoid unnecessarily conflict. Lucky for us, we had full access to the area and the guards knew we were to be protected.  
One of the guards Dean had meet while him and Sam disguised themselves as guards a couple months ago noticed us coming and gave a welcoming look. “Well isn’t it the Demonador?” He joked while giving Dean a friendly squeeze.  
“Hey Jason.” Dean smiled.  
“What brings you and Sam back to the prison yard? Couldn’t stay away?” Jason wondered pleasingly.  
Dean shook his head. “No, we’re here for a reason this time.”  
“Oh really?” Jason’s expression said it all. “So what is it that you need?” He began to guide us down the corridor towards the actual cell house.  
“We need to ask Mac about something.” Dean added.  
Jason’s eyes slid back to us briefly. “You mean Mac McKay? The guy you busted back in Egypt?”  
Dean nodded. “Yeah, that’s him.”  
Jason had stopped at the doubled gated door, sliding his ID card through the animated system to allow access to the area. We continued to follow Jason inside as we passed a chubbier guard with a steaming piece of pizza, watching the surveillance screens for any troubling evidence. I had glanced at his ID tag just for curiosity and found him to be Brad Mattock. Apparently all Brad did was monitor but he probably would have never gotten up to check something out, Jason noted that. We didn’t stay and chat as we finally had entered the wide, big cell block.  
“Mac’s cell is on the third so I’d keep an eye on your lady if I were you. Most of these jailbirds haven’t seen a lady in many years.” Jason commented as Dean played as my blockade on the side where the birds would coot and get grabby for a taste of woman affection.  
“Well hello, hot lady.” One of the prisoners said.  
“Did you fall from heaven or am I just crazy?” Another said.  
“I wish you were my tattoo.” The last one said.  
Some were flattering remarks; others were just downright uncalled for. But I was told to ignore them. There were at least fifteen comments towards me alone, a few of which were sadly Sam too. Apparently, the prisoners thought he was girl as well due to his long brown hair that shagged under his ears. Embarrassed, he continued to follow us, trying to hide his red flustered cheeks with his collar. You gotta love what happens when you’ve been locked up for so long; the human perspective gets transmitted wrongly.  
It wasn’t long until our trek had finally come to an end with the start of the third floor. This must have been where the most brutal and tainted of prisoners are placed because it was guarded by two buff guards that looked to be about Dean’s age with massive batons at their side and tasers strapped to their thighs. Another double bared door was set between us and the cell block with the ID card scanner once again slid to release the door.  
Jason would look back at us. “Alright, everyone stay close. The most dangerous of criminals own this cell block and I wouldn’t want any of you to get attacked or molested.”  
We would all nod in union, indicated we would oblige to his smart advice. Jason would sigh briefly before he begun to lead us down the cell block. Glancing into a few of the cells: there was an older man reading a book in a shallow lighted room who didn’t seem very dangerous until you read the title of his book, A Thousand Ways to Collect Body Revue, the one next to him was a heavy man, carving away at what looked to be a chunk of raw red meat, across from the meat man was a thin, skinny man that was known as “the woman strangler”. His uncomfortable eye contact caused me to avoid him all together as I whispered to Dean to help me keep out of his death gaze. It felt like he was picking me off, like a mental note written onto his kill list which didn’t feel friendly at all.  
“Grayson isn’t very friendly towards the lady, is he?” Jason glanced back at us as if giving a sign of relief. “Don’t mind him; there is no way in hell he’s getting out of here again.”  
The thought of him getting out was giving me the shakes. But I had to rub the thought off. Alright Katie, get a grip; we’ve got more important things to do. As much as I knew that was true, I couldn’t let the fear show across my face. Dean gave me a heavy glance as we came to a halt at the end of the corridor.  
“Here he is.” Jason called as he gave us room to peek through the bars. There, sitting in the dark was none other than a wild haired Mac McKay with a rugged beard and hissing whispers. His shallow expression was dark but bolder by his new scruff as his eyes gazed across towards the three of us looking in. He actually didn’t seem dangerous, more like mellowed with the resentment he felt and how to win an old friend back. How could I not at least try to visit?  
“Mac, you’ve got visitors.” Jason said into the dark cell as his form would rise to his feet. “You’ve got five minutes.” Jason empathized as he unlocked the cell’s main door to let us in. “And don’t try anything, McKay. I’ll be watching.”  
Once we stood inside, it suddenly became awkward. But Mac seemed inattentive of trying to harm us in anyway; he’d just slid his eyes by and rephrased his thinking. “So, you’ve come to see what has happened to old Mac?”  
I shook my head. “Actually no, were here to ask you something.”  
Mac turned to one of the walls, just to tilt back to face us. “If that’s the case, ask away my old friend.”  
“What do you know about the Sword of Belford?” I asked briefly. I’m pretty sure something has snapped inside of Mac when he heard us searching for a sword and a certain one at that.  
He’d meet my gaze dead on with his eyes heavy and bold. “So you seek the infamous Sword of Belford…well, I couldn’t be too much of a bragger but the sword is actually sitting in the National History Museum, Case 194.”  
“Wait so, the actual sword—Belford—has been inside the museum this whole time?” Dean commented with frustration.  
“That explains why we couldn’t find it right off the bat in the first place.” Sam added.  
Mac sent a wired grin. “The sword is the only one of its kind and to be truthful, it is said to possess maddening powers that only a chosen one could wield.” He glanced over at me as his eyes nailed into my own. “And Katie is actually one of them.”  
About then I could feel everyone’s eyes upon me and most couldn’t believe of what they just heard was true. “What Katie, a chosen one? Oh please.” Dean commented sarcastically. “She can’t be a chosen one; she’s just a normal being like everyone else. Nothing is out whack with her or she doesn’t possess powers of any sort. How could she be?”  
“Dean’s right. We both were chosen ones once but that was the past. There is nothing out of the ordinary with my sister, I can tell you that.” Sam added back.  
This talk about chosen ones was making a bit uncomfortable. Was it actually true? Mac was one of my oldest friends, even before Sam and Dean came into my life. Maybe there was something Grams knew she didn’t tell me. I tried to remember what she had told me on her death bed:  
The boys had left the room, their faces glum and distant. The birds outside the window were barely making a sound. It was like the world had stopped. Grams laid unmoved and pale as her finger would guide me her way.  
“Katie, there is something you must know, something only I could tell you.”  
“What is it Grams?”  
She whispered. “Don’t believe everything someone tells you. Take good care of Yessie for me; see for me that when the time comes, you remember my exact words: You are so much more than you believe yourself to be. Heed not that you ignore the fact, take my phrase as the truth, not a tweeter. You are more than you truly think. You’re a leader and you always will be but you are as well as special than just a citizen. You are… the chosen one that will triumph and save the world!  
As my flashback ended, I couldn’t help but now to reveal myself. “No,” I said out of the blue. The boys’ eyes darted to me in a reaction I wasn’t really expecting. “Mac… he’s right. I am a chosen one.”  
“What? That’s ridiculous! Where would you get such an idea from?” Dean empathized compassionately.  
“I didn’t make it up, Dean. Someone told me.” I growled.  
“But who told you, Katie?” Sam asked gently.  
“Grams did.” I said back as a sob begun to hover under my tone. I tried so hard to bite my tongue but the fact that Grams was long gone, I couldn’t bare the idea of mentioning her name again. I begun to silently sob to the sorrow of the lost as Sam gathered himself close as a source of companionship.  
Although the boys had a gut feeling I was telling the truth, Dean still would be upkeep with the job to be done. Effortlessly, he’d wedge himself between us two and Mac. “I’m not sure if you’re still looking for a fight, Mac. But I’d love it if you’d just leave Katie out of this and keep in line for what were really here for.”  
Mac grinned madly. “I can’t help but be still of assistance, Winchester. You two aren’t fit enough for her. She deserves more than a duo to upset her.”  
That’s about when Dean snapped. Furiously, he’d grab Mac’s worn prison jumpsuit and press him against the wall hard. Mac seemed a bit shocked to find what a bad button he just pressed. Dean’s expression became dark as he spoke his terms like he always meant to. “You have no right of saying were not good enough for her. You were the one who was insane enough to think you could control one bad mojo, that’s not us. Either you keep off the grass or you’re not going. Do we understand each other?”  
“Crystal.” Mac replied slowly as Dean released his fists.  
Sam and I were watching intensely as the fighting became a mellowed out event. I was still in my brother’s clutches, my mascara a rundown mess from the tear jerking reminder. When it hurts that bad, it never really is a good reminder. However, seeing how the events had passed us the last couple of days, this was one of my worst ones. Once we were able to leave the prison, nothing seemed to go as planned.  
We arrived to the museum just before the Professor had closed up for the night. The boys went in to retrieve the sword while Cas and I stood outside on the steps cold and seemingly a bit awkward. I was still feeling under the weather from the horrid reminder of a lost old friend and sensei, trying to get a grip for the long trail ahead. Glancing over at Castiel, I couldn’t help but wait to see if he’d be willing to show his affectionate side. To my surprise, he would once I made myself comfortable upon the frosted step of the entrance way.  
“You seem… distant.” Cas commented, looking beyond the empty park across the street.  
I would quickly wipe away with my sleeve just to meet Cas’ gaze. “I never thought of you as if being concerned for me. Most of your concern goes towards the boys.” I commented.  
The angel would be quick to draw with a shake of his head. “No, Sam and Dean their…” He lost his train of thought just as quickly as he was to say. “just the ones I was told to guard. But, that doesn’t mean I can’t look after all three of you.”  
I sniffed for a sign of relief before looking up at the full moon gleaming with pride upon the black sky. Closing my eyes, I imagined a world of the fearless and the noble. I would reopen them to the brisk air of the silent street. “You know,” I smiled brightly. “I never thought I’d meet an angel before. Grams use to tell me that ‘angels were just the pope or a father’s way of saying: hey, you’re safe in their arms’ when truly, only some seem to be.” I would find Cas sitting next to me, listening intensively like a memorized being. “But does that mean they are actually or just an excuse for one to believe?”  
“If you believe them to be then yes but at this point, it doesn’t seem that simple anymore.” Cas said with doubt in vain. “So this Grams--was she important to you?”  
I would nod. “Yes, she was pretty much my mother growing up. Actually, she was all of ours.” I gazed back up at the moon with my self-confidence rising. “She was actually the one who taught me everything I know. But then…the Winchesters came into my life and I knew at that point, I was going to know more.”  
“And what about me?” He added with wonder.  
“Well, to be honest, I didn’t believe an angel could exist.” I answered.  
“That is how Dean felt about me when I appeared to him.” Cas noted sympathetically.  
I smirked cheekily. “I’m not surprised; he can be so stubborn sometimes.”  
Speaking of, the boys had reappeared behind us as we looked up alarmed to the sight of the two of them. Dean had a very problematic look on his face as Cas and I stood up. “What were you two talking about?” He said suspicious.  
I knew what Dean was thinking at that point. But truthfully, I wasn’t going to cheat with the angel next to me, he seemed a bit too clueless to the matter of love. “Why would you care? Is something wrong with us having a friendly conversation once in awhile?” I said bitterly as he’d eye me with ferocity.  
“Yeah ok, fine. But we’ve got worst things to worry about.” Dean snapped.  
“Alright, what would that be?” I asked as calmly as I could.  
“The sword is missing and I bet we know who has it.” Dean replied as we quickly piled back into the Impala and headed towards the old hotel on main.  
Zan was pleased with his triumph. He had arrived back at the old hotel with the very sword that could kill the Mastermind. As much as he truly hated the thing, he knew the only way to get Dean Winchester in is to use it as bait. As he approached the rundown sitting room, he was suddenly caught in a dead stare with his adjacent brother. As usual, his face was deep in a pile of books.  
“Rath,” Zan said surprised. “What are you doing up still?” He stood a bit nervous as if trying to hide something.  
“I could ask you the same thing.” Rath replied back, his brow high.  
Zan would smirk. “It’s nothing of your concern, brother.” He would snake by his sibling with high intentions on foot, never looking back.  
As soon as he arrived at rat feasted door, his eye caught something move in the shadows. Zan knew at that point—he wasn’t alone. As he’d turn on his heel, his eyes were nailed to the suppose sight just to find nothing but his imagination playing tricks on him. Shaking the thought off, Zan continued on this trek towards the Mastermind’s room. He would be soon upon it noticing that the “big boss” was pacing back and forth nervously as if he knew something wasn’t right.  
Zan approached carefully, recalling his steps. “Are you alright?” He’d ask the hooded figure.  
The figure would stop and take a gander towards the Dean double. “No, she’s coming, here.”

It had begun to rain by the time we reached the old part of town. Its buildings crumbled to the hollowed out foundation it once had as if a scar across the land. The only complete one was the old hotel but walking inside, its walls told of old age and scared events with slipping wallpaper. We knew what to expect upon entering the place as it looked as if someone had shambled it apart and housing three of our enemies. It wasn’t very much of a villain’s hideout however.  
The four of us walked cautiously down the eroding hallway, peeking in each room we past for any sort of a sign. It wasn’t until the fifth floor did I start to feel a bit faint like something absorbing your life source effortlessly. I managed to climb the first few steps onto the next level before I knew something was terribly wrong. Sitting down on the ledge of the first flight however probably the best idea. Dean would find my expression a bit worrisome and send Sam and Cas to head towards the next floor where we’d meet them. As much as the two didn’t want to go, Sam knew orders were orders and they would reluctantly follow them.  
Dean would sigh and turn his attention towards me as he sat down beside me while sharing the step. I had my head cuffed deep by my hands as my mind begun to pound painfully from the exhaustion. I was relieved to find one of my group members had stayed behind but at the same time, there was something in the air. But I couldn’t put my finger on it, not even if it was a visual concept.  
“Are you doing alright?” Dean asked restlessly.  
I couldn’t help but shake my head. “I’m not sure exactly…”  
My spouse would take it as a ‘must get out of here’ sign and noted his way back towards the entrance. “We can climb back down if you’re not feeling well,” He pointed out. “Sam and I will go hunt down the sword.”  
I shook my head. “You really don’t—“I wasn’t sure what was going on but I could make note of a powerful being with my high senses. Dean was quick to notice as I stood up and held my head high as if a dog would with the scent of meat. Suddenly, I begun to walk up the flight with nothing blocking my thinking, not even my very own integrity.  
Dean would follow, unsure of what the heck was happening. It wasn’t until we reached the giant doors did I finally take control, just to get nauseous and lightheaded. Shortly after, I would pass out, clueless of what hit me and why but something beyond that door was giving off so intense readings, I was reacting violently. In a flash, Sam and Cas would fly down the stairwell just to find Dean cradling me helplessly in his arms as if I just died of something horrible.  
“We need to get her out of here!” Dean handed me off to Sam. “Take her outside while I see what’s behind this door.”  
“But Dean—“Sam was cut off by his brother.  
“Sam, we don’t have time for this. Now go!” Dean said angrily while passing off the Impala’s keys. Sam sighed frustrated as he disappeared onto the stairs with Cas following close behind.  
His agitated brother would take a breather while trying to configure the events. Turning towards the door, he seemed hesitant. What if whatever attacked Katie gets me as well? What now? He thought to himself with his eyes dead set down the hallway he stood. With complete ease, he’d reach out to feel the cold handle between his fingers as it turned.  
When peeking inside, there wasn’t much to look at. The room was of massive proportions with a broad chandler dangling with what little grip it still had. Dean would explore a bit deeper onto the portraits hanging and down the darkness until his sights met a strange sight of a wide open window as the rain tapped its glass outside. He would stop dead in his tracks beside the window as he looked out to where its view touched the horizon. Glancing down, he’d notice Sam appear out of the blue, his drenched hair flatly clinging to his head as the downpour monetarily got worst. He had laid me out on the Impala’s backseat and decided to remain outside, gazing up at the darkening sky as if it was a threat of some kind from heaven.  
Dean hesitated for a moment, carefully observing his brother’s movements before pushing along. He knew a distraction wasn’t helping him find the sword so he begun to search the place for clues. Looking in ever door and picking through piles of junk had him stumped. It wasn’t until he discovered the book flooded table did his findings become obvious. The demonic book was buried a few books deep in the pile as he’d quickly rummage through his pockets until his flashlight was found. Clenching the flashlight with his teeth, he flipped the pages, trying to interrupt the Latin it had written.  
Of what he could make out, it sounded as if it was some black magic book with numerous accounts of bizarre objects required. But the one that caught his attention the most was the page that was bookmarked. It was a resurrecting spell for a dark witch! Dean seen some seriously screwed up crap before but this was defiantly the worst of it so far. Dragon’s tooth, Horseshoe string and Murdock were just a few ingredients he understood. But it was the final ingredient that gave him chill down his spine—the blood of a true-blooded person---in other words, a human being and specifically, one that is considered “special”.  
A bit uneasy, Dean would think fast and decide to take the spell with him for good measure. So he ripped the page off its spine and shoved it into one of his hidden pockets. At least I know what they’re doing, he thought as he made his way back to the main door. But before he could, a sound caught his attention from the blackness ahead of him. Set into alert mode, Dean would pace himself by taking out his gun and loading it as a safety precaution. He’d begin to snake towards the door, his gun ready at hand for any sign of movement again.  
Suddenly, he was shoved down like something heavy landed atop him. His gun flew right out of his palm and slid towards the wall. He attempted to grab it, just to see it slide away farther. Discouraged, Dean planted his boots upon the mass’s torso and shoved it off. The mass would land a few feet away just to grab Dean’s jeans while he struggled to get to his feet. He was pinned again by the mass, realizing that this thing had the same level of strength he did.  
But for some reason, he couldn’t put his finger on it. This mass wasn’t just the same, he looked the same too. It was Zan! Dean squinted up towards his double’s face, etching his outline from the one he sees in the mirror. Zan would grin madly.  
“Well well well, look who it is? My adjacent gift wrapped.” He said cheekily.  
“We may look the same but that doesn’t make you me.” Dean growled as he managed Zan off.  
Zan wouldn’t hold back with his mission. He knew what was needed of him so he’d just attack with his sarcastic remarks. “Aren’t you a bit cranky? I’d love to chat with you, Dean but I’ll need a little sample first.”  
Suddenly Zan pounced. Dean seemed a bit disoriented by the quick shot right towards him. His double had yet again managed to use his own weight against Dean’s. But the fact they were equally matched didn’t help to satisfy the need. It wasn’t long until Zan pulled his knife out and tickled it under his twin’s chin. Dean struggled hard to escape.  
“You can’t escape me, Dean. And you know it!” Zan hissed as he begun to slice back and forth. Dean knew he was in trouble now as each swipe got a bit deeper than the one before it. That’s when it hit him, easiest place to hurt a guy—was in the nuts. So before his double could slice another inch, Dean had managed to switch his position enough to aim right to the sweet spot. Zan yelled out, releasing his grip upon Dean’s neck as he staggered back in pain.  
The Winchester made his way towards the door, opening it and flying down the hallway. Zan rubbed his sore spot for a few moments before realizing Dean was gone. He sighed unsightly and made his way towards the doors and down the hall after him. As much as Dean wanted to fight, he could sense my cries for help as he travelled down flight by flight of stairs to answer the call. But he was stopped shortly after as Zan slammed the door in his face on the third floor. Shell-shocked, Dean rose to his feet quickly as Zan’s wrenched expression told of hellish proportions.  
“I’m gonna kill you!” Zan snapped with the blooded knife in hand. He swung it towards Dean, nicking him on the shoulder blade as he reverted back towards the wall.  
At this point, Dean wasn’t quite sure to do. He can head up or down. Those were his only choices. Making the split decision, he decided to try to climb up instead. After a quick check of his bloody hand, he pushed his boots forward, kicking Zan back. Now it was a race to the top as both boys traveled rapidly up each flight, gaining ever so closer in contact with every step.  
It was about ten minutes later that they both faced each other once again. Dean had managed to take the roof access on the fifth floor, realizing he probably made a bad mistake. Once on the roof, he just about slid off once his boots touched the wet, tarred shingles. Zan remained right on his tail the way up and stumbled upon the slippery surface, just about sliding right off as well. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide now; both of them we’re doomed and they knew it.  
Meanwhile, Sam was watching the action from the ground level. His heart pounded hard as his brother’s figure was seemly close to the edge. I remember waking up to the sound of the loud pounding of the raindrops upon the Impala’s thin roof. When I rose to sitting position, I suddenly found a horrid pain wrenching inside my chest. That’s when I realized why.  
Dean, I thought. As soon as I pushed the door of the Impala open, it was too late.  
Zan was about to charge when suddenly, the closest power line had snapped due to a lightning hit. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that the sparks begun to fly. No one was safe. The power line wiggled about like some magnetic force kept it down and out. The boys weren’t to expect what was about to strike.  
Zan had just barely managed to gain a few steps closer to Dean before the sparks truly did fly. Startled by the array of dangerous sparks, Zan stepped back a few inches before the shingle revealed it’s denial as it collapsed right under his feet. He wailed as Dean watched in horror of his afterlife fall. A thump was heard just a few floors below, the sound of his bone’s crushing made him cringe. However, Dean was standing a bit too close to the live wire for his safety. Being half wet as he was, it was just a death sentence waiting to happen.  
Turning away, the sparks caught its target dead on as his head turned. The electricity snaked its way up to his heart, ripping it apart to damage tissue. Suddenly, the world went black as his feet just slipped off the roof and the sound of Sam yelling across the road was all he heard.  
At this point, we knew that nothing was going to go as planned. Zan just planted our commander in a range of fire and he still was to get medical attention? Neither of us could wait to complain to Doc about this but yet they still brought him in. After rolling Dean away into the ER, Zan on another stretcher followed. Looking over at the scene, you could see how mangled and blooded he was with. Because I was a certified MD, I could take a gander behind the scenes and I couldn’t wait to see how bad each of them laid.  
The doubles were put in the rooms beside each other, Dean on the right and Zan on the left. I couldn’t but watch in horror as they tried to revive Dean with the very thing that struck him down. Doc was hassling back and forth trying to get his heart pumping again. Nothing but flatling rested between the three of us and I was getting majorly concerned and aggravated at that point. I couldn’t bury him again, I just couldn’t. That’s when Doc said “screw it” and rushed towards the adrenalin.  
I had arrived at his side a few seconds later, half in tears and half in anger as he’d seen the face before. He knew what I wanted and he was going to get it back, no matter what. With a quick swipe off the needle’s protector, he’d strike it down deep into the unconscious Dean’s chest. It took only a few seconds until spikes broke the flat line. I could feel the relief rise over me as Dean rose startled and choking on the sudden air intake. His throat had gone dry just by the sudden attack.  
“He’s back!” One of the nurses cried cheerfully. The two other nurses were thankful as well.  
I would weave my way to the shell shocked Dean as he grabbed his aching side with a crunched expression on his face. He’s head would turn to me as my hand planted itself upon his thigh. “I thought I lost you...again.” I whispered briefly but making an inside joke as well.  
He’d stoke my cheek and shook his head. “Guess you’re stuck with me then because I’m not going anywhere for a long time.” I couldn’t help but smile after hearing that.  
Doc would clear his throat to interrupt us. “Sorry to interfere you two but, we’ve got to make sure you’re still in one piece.” He added smoothly.  
“Aw, Doc, did you have to interrupt our “special moment” like that?” Dean added sarcastically.  
Doc shook his head and smiled brightly. “I’m just doing my job. Now come on you two lovebirds, it’ll only be for a few minutes.”  
It was more like a half an hour after Doc finally finished. Dean had a clean slate of health, nothing than the usual was seen or heard. But as hospital rules, every patient was required to stay over the night for observation. Better to be safe than sorry, right? So for the rest of the night, it was just Dean and me which are nice, when he’s not hunting and here in the state, I get him usually for whole night anyways.  
I had sent Sam home to tuck in Sarah and inform the others of what happened but reassure them that everything was alright. Well, that is if you don’t count Zan. Being good Samaritans we are, we had glanced in to check the aftermath while taking our stroll down the quieted hallway. He lay grumpy with an evil glare in his eyes. Apparently, he had broken one of his legs but only one and half his body laid in a mountain of bruises and scratches. As nicely as possible we’d approach hand in hand towards the evil go getter.  
“What’d you want?” He huffed.  
Dean and I glanced over at each other, unsure of how to proceed. I would sigh and turn my attention back to the grumpy double. “Well… we just wanted to see how it is going.”  
“You think I would share my feelings with you bastards even if I wanted to?” Zan growled.  
“Why are you so –-“I begun to say, just to be glared at deeply.  
“I don’t want to share my feelings with you! Get lost; I don’t need any of your goodie-toochu Samaritan crap!” Zan sneered rudely as he turned his head away as if trying to make a point.  
“Well geez, no wonder that guy’s lonely.” Dean commented as he followed me out of the room and into the hallway.  
I nodded. “Yeah, did you see how he looked at me? It was like a stare down and I’m pretty sure he was checking me out while doing so.”  
“Sounds like something I would do.” Dean replied back resentfully.  
“I actually know you do it, it’s your fetish.” I fired back.  
“I’m sorry, I can change.” He said.  
I stopped him with one hand upon his chest and looked him directly into the eye. “No, don’t change, never change. You’re too cute now.” I said flirtatiously before strutting away. He’d smile towards my attitude and joined me a few minutes later in the comfort of his temporary hospital bed.  
Midnight would come fast around this place as time itself seemed to slow. I was comfy within my terrain with Dean huddling me inside his clutches. The hospital was defiantly a different place once all the lights go off. Every single word the nurses said could be heard from all the way down the hall when you’re not even by the door! No wonder people with the fear of hospitals feel the most uncomfortable during after hours, there’s nothing but dense dead silence.  
We were located on the third floor while Zan was the floor above us. He was wide awake, nothing seemed to suit his need to fall asleep as he’d toss and turn in opposite directions growing ever so frustrated. He’d stop and place his palm on his forehead just to stare up at the ceiling. How the hell can I sleep here? He told himself as he’d rub his face before lowering his hand to the side. He’d close his eyes and attempted to leave it at that.  
Surprisingly, he managed a few minutes of sleep before he felt something touch him briefly. Startled, he opened his eyes to the sight of Lonnie above him. “Lonnie? Is that you?” He said excitable.  
Lonnie nodded and shushed him. “Keep your voice down. In case you haven’t noticed, visitor hours aren’t until morning.”  
“Oh right.” Zan noted quickly. But he still was confused by why she stood before him. “But what are you doing here?”  
“I was hoping you knew, the eclipse is tomorrow and master’s getting pissy.” She begun, looking over her shoulder briefly for any overheard info. “Where’s the blood?”  
“What? Oh yeah, right. I couldn’t get close enough to him to take some.” He replied.  
“Why not?” Lonnie hushed yelling made Zan’s head hurt.  
“I just told you.” Zan hushed yelled as well.  
Lonnie shook her head. “This won’t do. Zan, what the heck have you been doing then?”  
“What does it look like? I’m stuck in his trap hole for two weeks!” He made not of his cast leg. “You do realize that he’s here, right?”  
Lonnie was happy to hear such a term. “What? Really?” Zan nodded with a smirk. “But where?’  
The Dean double would look down for a hint. Lonnie would take it as something else but after a minute, she realized he meant the next level. She would head off, taking the stairs as quietly as she could as she approached the floor. Dean and I had faced our backs to the door when she walked in like a ninja. She’d peek over Dean’s backside to make sure it was truly us. I had the feeling of a pair of eyes were upon me but I didn’t even winch to gather the info.  
She was getting ready to tie him down before she noticed me. I was in a comfortable wedge between Dean and the outer edge of the bed, dreaming of a heavenly reality. “Well well, looks like I lucked out this time.” She whispered solemnly with a twisted grin. As said before, I was actually truly the “special” one; Dean wasn’t even close to certain consent. Now Lonnie faced a great deal of trouble, how could she manage to get close enough if my known protective spouse is right next door?  
She could try to kidnap one of us, but the other will seek revenge and want a fight. However, it could lure the one they wanted as well. This was defiantly a pickle. Before she could make up her mind, the door would open behind her. What Lonnie didn’t know was that Sam came back to retrieve his jacket that was lying under Dean’s on the chair next to us.  
He’d enter the room to find my black haired double hovering over us. He’d gasp at the sight and glared deeply. “Lonnie!” Sam snapped.  
Dean and I rolled around after hearing the commotion. “What the—“Dean was startled to find my double above us as I was too. He’d take his stance with me under him upon the bed as if being a shield. “Stay away from her.” He’d hiss towards Lonnie like an order.  
She knew that there was nowhere to run; both the doorway and the exit towards the window were blocked by one massive brother that knew a thing or two about combat. Each being about one hundred to one hundred and sixty pounds, she was outmatched in muscle power. Lonnie stood in-between them, unsure of what to do. She wanted me so boss could see her as a likable advisory but knowing protective Dean; she wouldn’t dare put a finger on me. Either surrender or fight, those were her only options.  
She’d challenge Sam who stood his ground like a boss, a stiff tree no one can remove. Pulling out a gun, she pointed it towards his head then at Dean. “Whatever you two do, I’m not leaving without the chosen one.” She threatened while teetering the firearm around.  
They were surprised to find her loaded but neither of them was far from their own firearms. Dean’s was in his coat pocket beside us and Sam’s was under his belt but he seemed a bit hesitant to grab it. My twin made it over closer to the bed where Dean still stood his ground. She would point the barrel towards him as he’d react with little to nothing but a serious expression. Suddenly, she’d grab my arm quickly and pull me out and up until I could feel its cold barrel buried under my chin. Dean rolled off the bed and was about to dig into his pockets when she threatened the barrel even deeper.  
“Don’t even think about it!” Lonnie cursed towards both of them. “In a minute, her brains will be all over the wall.”  
“Ok ok, just don’t—hurt her, please.” Dean pleaded as he met my gaze with grief.  
Lonnie narrowed her sights and begun to push me towards the door. Sam didn’t want to back down but my life was at sake so he had to. He’d look down at his feet with despair as he moved aside for us to pass. I’d turn towards him and mouth ‘please help me’ before we had entered the hallway. Before I knew it, we would be outside in the cold weather and walking towards the old hotel.  
Sam and Dean both felt guilty for letting her get away. Dean would sigh and turn towards the window where the frost streaked the outside. He’d gaze out beyond the parking lot with the anger building inside of him. Sam would come up from behind and place his hand on his shoulder. Dean took it calmly and thanked his brother for stay by his side.  
“Don’t worry, Katie.” He begun hopeful. “I’ll get you back, even if I die trying.”  
To be continued...


End file.
